


Let's Not Be Alone Tonight

by softgay (lovelymartin)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Autistic Character, Autistic Hinata, Autistic Kenma, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff, Gender Issues, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly fluff and hurt/comfort though, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sexual Content, Sexuality, Trans Character, Transphobia, University, not tagging everyone's gender and sexuality but it'll say in the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelymartin/pseuds/softgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One spring afternoon, 15 students each received a flier, with instructions they had no choice but to follow.  Upon entering the room, the only thing they knew was that each of the 15 had one thing in common, and that, from that day on, all of their lives would never be the same.<br/>Or: all of your faves are trans 2k15</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just a giant clusterfuck of all of my gender identity and sexuality headcanons for the Haikyuu kids. I'll put individual trigger warnings for each chapter.

From the moment that Kuroo caught sight of the flyer— "Queer and trans university students: Join LGBT Club today”—partially shoved under a stack of books on Kenma’s desk, Kenma knew that they would never hear the end of it.  They hadn’t meant for Kuroo to find it; it had been shoved in their face by a fourth-year as they had been walking to class earlier that day, and Kenma had been so overwhelmed by the tidal wave of girls throwing themselves at said fourth-year’s feet that it hadn’t even crossed their mind to ask how he’d known Kenma was trans, so they had done their best to escape the situation and bury the flier in their dorm room the moment class ended.  

They knew it was only a matter of time before Kuroo started pushing his roommate and childhood friend to branch out more and meet new people, but in all honesty, Kenma had hoped to delay it as long as possible.  It was already the end of the second month of their first year at university, but Kenma would rather stay alone as much as possible; meeting new people was so stressful, as a result of all the awkward attempts at communication, the fear and confusion that filled their head whenever they were forced into any social interaction, and the painful and taxing struggle to always appear normal, always pass as allistic and straight and cisgender and _calm_  even when they were obviously anything but. As long as they could pass, they were safe. If anyone found out the truth, there would be so many uncomfortable questions, and Kenma knew they wouldn’t be able to handle it for more than a few moments before their brain went into overload.

Kuroo knew about them, obviously, but Kuroo actually respected their boundaries.  They couldn’t exactly trust anyone else to do the same, especially not when people’s intentions and motivations and emotions were so impossible for them to read and decipher.  With as much respect and understanding as Kuroo had, though, he still, just like countless parents and teachers and therapists and “concerned individuals”, thought he could do Kenma good by “pushing them out of their comfort zone,” by forcing them to go to social events and meet new people when Kenma would feel much better skipping the stress and just playing video games instead.  So, of course, as soon as Kuroo saw the flyer, the first words out of his mouth were “you should join.”

Kenma froze, keeping their eyes glued to their DS screen as they pretended to ignore Kuroo’s remark.  Kuroo tried again.

“It might help you to meet other people like you.”

“I don’t need help,” Kenma finally replied, their voice barely louder than a mumble.

“Ya know, you might feel more comfortable around people who were going through the same things you were.”

“I don’t want to,” Kenma repeated, quietly, returning their focus to their game. Kuroo sighed, thinking for a moment, then spoke again.

“Please go to one meeting, Kenma. For me. I’ll even come with you.”

Kenma groaned. “You just want to go ‘cuz you wanna meet hot lesbians.”

Kuroo scoffed, as if what Kenma had said was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Aw, no. Of course not! I would like to meet hot gay guys, though. Preferably one with a good butt.”

“Please don’t talk about sex with me,” Kenma hissed.

“I wasn’t talking about sex!”

“You were going to, though.”

“No I wasn—alright, fine. Whatever. Can we please go to one meeting, though? Just one?”

Kenma sighed. This was a bad idea, a really bad idea. They decided to ignore the question entirely, and return to their game. Kuroo, however, seemed to take their silence as a yes.

“Thanks, Kenma. I knew you’d come around!"

 _God dammit_ , Kenma thought, and they wondered, for the umpteenth time, why they bothered with people at all.

 

* * *

 

 _Why did I agree to this?_  was all Kenma could think as they trailed behind Kuroo and entered the club room.  It was small, but not cramped, and bare, the only furnishings being a beat-up couch along the back wall and a circular rug in the center. As Kenma and Kuroo stepped into the room, the fourth-year who had given Kenma the flyer last week rose to his feet and walked over to them.  He flashed a smile at them, and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair.

“Hey!” he said, his voice carefree and casual. “Welcome to the LGBT Club! I’m Oikawa Tooru, and you are?”

“I’m Kuroo, and this is Kenma,” Kuroo quickly answered, and Kenma silently thanked him for sparing them from having to speak just yet.

“Alright then, why don’t you two sit down in the circle next to Iwa-chan.”

He gestured over to the rug, where a fourth-year with spiky black hair was sitting. Iwa-chan gave them a little wave, and Kenma slowly followed Kuroo to sit down next to him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he said, offering his hand. Kuroo shook it, while Kenma looked down into their lap.  Oikawa returned and sat down on the other side of Iwaizumi, but quickly jumped to his feet when the door opened and another group of students entered.

A few minutes later, when everyone had filtered in, Iwaizumi rose to his feet and addressed everyone in the circle. “Welcome, everyone. I’m so glad you all made it here. I’m sorry about the room, it’s the only one that was available for this time. As you know, this is a new club, specifically meant for trans and queer students at our university to get to know each other. So, why don’t we start with some introductions? I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, a fourth year, gay, and a trans male. He pronouns, please.”

He sat down, and gestured to Oikawa next to him, who flashed a smile and wiggled his fingers in a little wave. “Oikawa Tooru at your service! I’m a fourth year and I run this club with my boyfriend Iwa-chan. I’m genderfluid, homoromantic bisexual, and I use he pronouns.”

Kuroo was up next. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I’m a second year, I’m gay, and, uh, I’m cis, I guess.”

Kenma saw a few people in the circle look at each other when Kuroo said he was cis. Kuroo didn’t seem to notice, though, or he just didn’t care. He gestured toward Kenma, who swallowed the lump in their throat and quickly mumbled, “Kenma Kozume, first year, agender, aro-ace, they pronouns.” They finished, and stared intensely down at their hands.

Next up was a redhead who seemed unable to sit still, who blurted, “I’m Hinata Shouyou, I’m a first-year bisexual trans boy with he pronouns.” His voice seemed unusually loud in the silence of the room, but when Kenma looked up they saw nervousness written on his face, so plain that even Kenma could read it.

After Hinata was a black-haired kid who was trying in vain to hold the squirming boy down, “Kageyama Tobio, first year, I play volleyball.”

“What’s your gender, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa asked, his tone oddly informal for someone he had just met. Kageyama just stared blankly.

“Um...I’m a setter?”

Oikawa opened his mouth in protest, but Iwaizumi cut him off.

“Do you know what your sexuality is, Kageyama-kun?”

Another blank stare.  Kageyama’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “I like...volleyball?”

“Don’t worry, he always does this,” Hinata blurted out. Iwaizumi nodded solemnly, cleared his throat, and the exchange was over.

Next up was a broad-shouldered guy, “Sawamura Daichi, third year, demiboy, pansexual, he pronouns,” one with silver hair, “Sugawara Koushi, third year, agender, gray-aromantic, asexual, they pronouns,” and a brunette, “Azumane Asahi, third year, trans female, demisexual, she pronouns.”

Sitting next to the three third years was another, soft-spoken and pretty, with long dark hair and glasses, “Shimizu Kiyoko, third year, demigirl, pansexual, she pronouns.” After her, a bespectacled blonde, “Tsukishima Kei, first year, demiboy, aromantic pansexual, he pronouns,” and a freckle-faced brunette, “Yamaguchi Tadashi, first year, demigirl, bisexual, she pronouns.”

The final three were a blonde with a single pigtail tied with a bow, “Yachi Hitoka, first year, trans girl, homosexual, she pronouns,” a guy with spiked black and blonde-streaked hair, “Nishinoya Yuu, second year, trans guy, demiromantic bisexual, he pronouns,” and a skinny, scowling kid with a buzzcut, “Tanaka Ryuunosuke, second year, bigender, bisexual, he pronouns.”

After Tanaka had finished, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Everyone stared at each other or at the bare walls and ceiling, while Iwaizumi scribbled something in a notepad and Oikawa took selfies on his phone. A minute later, Iwaizumi, having finished with whatever he was writing, growled and gave a sharp slap to the back of Oikawa’s head, causing him to yelp and drop the phone into his lap.  

“Iwa-chaaaan,” Oikawa whined, rubbing the back of his neck where Iwaizumi’s palm had made contact.

“Focus, you dumbass,” Iwaizumi hissed, but he had a smile on his face.

“You’re so mean,” Oikawa teased, smiling good-naturedly. Kenma had to force themself not to stare, baffled as they often were with the complexity of human exchanges. Kenma wasn’t _stupid_  by any means, but they weren’t able to read people, and trying to interact with those who said one thing but meant another left them confused and scared. Kuroo must have sensed Kenma’s discomfort, because he placed a soothing hand on their trembling thigh. Kenma gave a tiny nod of thanks.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “So, now that we’ve introduced ourselves, does anyone have any ideas for a game we could play to get to know each other better?”

Oikawa snorted. “You don’t even have a plan? That’s kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Iwaizumi lunged at him, but Oikawa ducked away. “It’s not like you di–oh, forget it. Who knows of a good mixer?”

Silence. The awkwardness and tension in the air was tangible.  Finally, Asahi raised a shaky hand.  “We could play the M&Ms game,” she suggested. “You know, the one where each color M&M corresponds to a different question?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “We don’t have any M&Ms,” he said solemnly. Tense silence settled again. Finally, Yachi raised her hand.

“What about Never Have I Ever?”

Iwaizumi shrugged, glancing at Oikawa for approval. “Sure, why not?” Oikawa said.

“I’ll start,” Iwaizumi said quickly. “Hmm...never have I ever been to America.” Kenma saw a few people put one finger down. Kuroo was next.

“Never have I ever had a dog.” Kenma looked around, watched several people put down another finger. It was Kenma’s turn now. They swallowed.

“Um...never have I ever...gone more than 48 hours without sleep.” They didn’t see if anyone put a finger down, because they were looking down at their hands, fidgeting a little, pressing each left fingertip against each right one, as they tried to slow their breathing.

The game dragged on. The statements everyone made were relatively basic, but the awkwardness in the air was tangible.  Though Kenma had a hard time paying attention to most of the others, they found their focus often drifting over to Hinata. The redhead seemed once again to be having trouble sitting still, and even when Kageyama managed to hold him down, his hands wrung and twisted and weaved through the air.  Kenma found it strangely fascinating, almost _soothing_ , to watch this frenetic dance, even if it was jerky and twitching and desperate, as grating as the boy’s oddly-loud voice. Kenma wasn’t the only one who noticed, though, and after a while, Tsukishima spoke out, interrupting a slightly-flustered Asahi.

“Could you sit still for _one second_?” Kenma could tell that Tsukishima was angry, but they didn’t know why.  

“I can’t,” Hinata replied. His voice sounded distressed.

“Sit on your hands or something,” Tsukishima snapped. “It’s annoying to watch.”

“Yeah–” Yamaguchi started to pipe up, but Tsukishima cut her off with a glare.

“I can’t help it!” Hinata cried.

“Try harder,” Tsukishima growled, just as Iwaizumi tried to restore order with a sharp “Guys, please.” The others ignored him, and Kenma felt the tension in the room increase to almost oppressive levels.  They didn’t understand why Tsukishima was so upset, and what was so bad about Hinata’s fidgeting, but they were scared, almost, by the blonde who appeared calm but had so much anger in his voice. They watched Kageyama try to wrestle Hinata’s hands under him, hold them down, but to no use; Hinata yelped when Kageyama’s nails dug into his skin, and Kageyama let go.

“He can’t help it, Tsukishima,” Kageyama growled. “Shut up about it, or I’ll have to make you shut up.”

The noise and chaos in the room seemed to increase hundredfold, as Tsukishima started spitting curses at Kageyama, provoking him to lunge across the circle at the blonde–Iwaizumi, Sugawara and Daichi were all shouting to try and restore order–Tanaka was waving his fists in the air and screaming “I’ll fight you–I’ll fight all of you!”–Kenma’s head was swimming, their vision was blurring, their forehead throbbed and they could barely string thoughts together, let alone make sense of the noises around them–they had to get out of here, _now_.  They lurched to their feet, somehow managed to find the door on the other side of the room, and made it to the stairwell at the end of the hall before their legs gave out and they slumped to the floor, their back flush against the wall. They still couldn’t think properly, could barely breathe, the shouting still echoing in their head, scattering their thoughts–the concrete floor and dimly-lit hallway felt miles away, they could barely even feel their own body. They managed to curl into the fetal position, and rocked back and forth, trying to ground themself, to clear their vision and thoughts and _snap out of it_  already, digging their teeth into the back of their hand and trying to feel the pain as their canines pricked the skin, trying to feel _something_. They scraped their teeth back and forth across the soft taut skin, back and forth, like the rhythm of the rocking and twitching of their body.  They were stimming uncontrollably now, trying to latch onto any sensation they could still feel, trying to ease the dizziness and the fuzzy disconnect and confusion.  

They lost all sense of time when this happened; they had no idea how long it had been and how long it would be until the world came back into focus. They felt, rather than saw, someone approach; muffled noises they couldn’t make sense of meant that the unknown person was talking, but Kenma was buried in an underground tunnel, dark and dizzy, and the muffled voices were coming from the surface, or through the thick stone walls, and they didn’t even know if the voice was talking to them. The noises stopped, and they felt something brush against their hand, warm wet fingers of darkness raking against their bloody skin, and they shrunk away.  The person they still couldn’t see draped something over them and disappeared.

 

* * *

 

Kenma didn’t know how much time had passed when the fog in their mind began to retreat. They were dimly aware of the hard concrete floor of the stairwell where they still lay, the chill of the room, the droplets of blood trickling down the back of their hand.  The thing that had been draped over them looked like some sort of blanket, or maybe a jacket, they couldn’t really tell. With a jolt, they remembered the person, the mystery figure who had watched their shutdown, who had tried to talk to them, tried to _touch_  them, and had draped this blanket over them and left. Kenma hoped it was no one they knew.  A sudden wave of exhaustion passed over them, and they wanted nothing more than to go to sleep right there on the floor. But they knew they had to get back to the dorms; Kuroo would be worried, and besides, they probably had homework to do. They should probably return the blanket to its owner first, though.  They pushed themself sitting, and fumbled with shaking fingers, trying to find some sort of label or nametag on the fleece.  Finally, they found a label, embroidered in black thread. _Hinata Shouyou, Dorm 410._   Kenma recognized it as the standard blanket issued to all university students living in the dorms.  They shuddered. Of _course_  it had to be someone they knew. At least it wasn’t Tsukishima.  Rising shakily to their feet, they draped the blanket over one shoulder, and, before they had time to have second thoughts, they set off towards the dorms.

 

A few minutes later, and they had arrived in front of Dorm 410, which was in the building adjacent to their own.  They wiped the cold sweat from their forehead with equally sweaty palms, swallowed the lump in their throat, and knocked.  Moments later, the door opened slightly, and Hinata poked his head around the corner. Seeing who it was, he opened the door fully and smiled.  He was barefoot, wearing a baggy t-shirt and short pajama shorts, and his hair looked messier than before.

“Hi, Kenma!” he beamed.  He looked happy.

“Um, hi. I’m...I’m just here to return this.” They offered up the blanket, and Hinata took it, beckoning for Kenma to step inside. Kenma hesitated.

“Come on in! My roommate’s not here right now,” he said eagerly.  “Um…” was all Kenma could respond.

“You must be hungry,” Hinata tried again. “I just made ramen. Do you want some?”

Kenma shrugged, and Hinata pulled them inside before Kenma could protest. The room was small, so Kenma sat, rather awkwardly, at the edge of the bed, and Hinata pulled a steaming bowl of ramen out of the small microwave perched rather precariously on the tiny desk.  He thrusted it in front of Kenma.

“Eat this,” he said. Kenma shook their head.

“It’s yours,” they insisted. Hinata laughed.

“I’ll just make myself something later. You need it more than I do right now.” A pause, and then he added, “Well I mean, I always get really hungry after I have a meltdown.”

Kenma froze. _No, it couldn’t be, he couldn’t_ —but that _would_  explain a few things, like why the boy wasn’t able to sit still during the club meeting, and why he wasn’t now bombarding them with questions like most allistic people did when they witnessed one of Kenma’s shutdowns.  But how—

“A-are you autistic too?” Kenma blurted, immediately regretting it. But Hinata grinned.

“Yup!”

Kenma couldn’t do anything but stare blankly. This was, this made them feel—they didn’t know how to describe it, but it wasn’t a _bad_  feeling. They gave a weak smile and dug into their food.  

The two were silent while Kenma ate, more voraciously than they normally did. The ramen was surprisingly good, and the noodles had a nice texture.  When they were finished, Hinata snatched the bowl from them and put it on the desk, and then returned, sitting next to Kenma on the bed.  Kenma absentmindedly rubbed at the back of their hand, where the blood had dried in thin brown streaks.  Hinata watched them, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry about...about what happened at the meeting.” Hinata’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“It’s not your fault,” Kenma replied, truthfully. “Tsukishima shouldn’t have said all that.”

Hinata looked at Kenma, his eyes glassy.  “Why do people _do_  things like that?” he said, his voice wavering. Kenma shrugged.

“I...I don’t know. I don’t understand it either.”  Hinata swallowed, glanced away. When he looked back, Kenma saw tears in his eyes.   _Please don’t start crying,_  Kenma thought with a twinge of shame; _I won’t know what to do._  They were so, so tired, and even though they wanted to protect this boy, who was like them and who was hurting for it, they never knew how to comfort people.

Hinata sighed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Are _you_  okay, though?” he asked. Kenma nodded.

Kenma was suddenly aware of how close together they were sitting, and how Hinata seemed to be subtly leaning towards them. Somehow, though, Kenma felt at ease around the redhead, in a way they never felt around anyone else, even Kuroo. Maybe it was because they and Hinata were alike: maybe that was what made him easier to trust, easier to break down Kenma’s barriers to normal communication.  Hinata wasn’t fidgeting, Kenma noticed. His hands lay motionless in his lap.

“You must be tired,” Hinata said finally. “You wanna go back to your dorm, or you could rest here if you’re too tired to go anywhere?”

Kenma shrugged. “I guess I could stay here for a bit,” they replied quietly.

Now that Hinata mentioned it, they _were_  exhausted, and as a sudden wave of dizziness passed over them they wondered how they had managed to stay awake for so long. They lay back on the bed, not really bothering to make the effort to crawl under the covers, and Hinata stood up, returning momentarily with the blanket and draping it over Kenma’s body. Kenma let their eyes flutter closed, sighing in blissful relief. Moments later, they felt Hinata stretch out next to them, and they found themself scooting over a few inches to be closer to him. The two of them lay like that for some time, lightly pressed up against each other, their breathing a soft and heavy chorus in the quiet room. Every so often Hinata would hesitantly try to start a conversation, but Kenma was too tired to do anything more than grunt, and they fell silent again. It was a comfortable silence, though, and Hinata’s body was warm against Kenma’s back. Kenma hovered in a state of half-sleep, drowsy and warm and surprisingly comfortable here.  After what could’ve been an hour, or maybe even two, they were both roused by the click of the door lock.

“Hi, Lev,” Hinata said with a yawn, sitting up as a tall boy with parted gray hair entered the room.

“Hey Shouyou, who’s—” Lev froze when he saw Kenma.

“Oh, they’re just my friend, Kenma-kun,” Hinata replied cheerily. Kenma sat up, pulling the blanket off of their body.

“I should probably get going,” they said quickly. “Kuroo’s probably wondering where I am. Um...thanks, Hinata.”  They stood up, suddenly embarrassed, and made their way to the door.

“See ya, Kenma!” Hinata called out as Kenma left the room, the door swinging shut behind them. As they walked down the hall and over to their own dorm, the only thought going through their head was the realization that _he called me his friend_.

 

* * *

 

When they opened the door to their own room, Kuroo immediately jumped to his feet.

“There you are!” he said. He looked worried, and Kenma wondered how long they had been gone.  They hadn’t meant for Kuroo to worry.

“Sorry, I was in Hinata’s room,” Kenma muttered.

“You mean that squirmy kid from LGBT club?”

Kenma felt a sudden desire to protect the boy who had called them his friend. “Yeah. He–he can’t help it though.”

“I know,” Kuroo replied. “After you left, everything kinda got sorted out. It was pretty awkward, though. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought Tsukishima actually seemed _guilty_.”

“What do you mean?” Kenma plodded over to his bed and flopped down, not even bothering to take off his shoes.

“You haven’t heard? Tsukishima Kei is fucking famous as one of the biggest douchebags in the first year. I’m a goddamn second year, and even I know that. That Yamaguchi chick is his main groupie. I always assumed she was a guy, though.”

“Kuroo, you have terrible taste.” It hadn’t meant to come out like that, but Kenma didn’t exactly have much of a filter.

“I–what–I’m not _attracted_ to him!” Kuroo spluttered. “Besides, if I was thirsty for anyone in that club, it would be Daichi. Have you _seen_  that ass? Not that I am though,” he quickly added. “Thirsty for him, I mean.”

“You’re definitely thirsty for him,” Kenma muttered, but Kuroo didn’t seem to hear. They stretched out on their bed, and were just closing their eyes when Kuroo spoke again.

“Oh, there’s going to be another club meeting in two weeks.  I can come with you again, unless you don’t want to go?”

Kenma peered at him through half-lowered eyelids, considering.  It would be a little embarrassing to face all of them again after what happened, and there was always a chance that it would happen again, but Hinata would be there, and somehow, the thought of seeing Hinata again overruled their anxieties.

“I’ll go,” they finally said. “You can come or not come, it’s fine with me either way.”

Kuroo shrugged. “I’ll probably come. I wouldn’t mind seeing everyone again.”

 _You wouldn’t mind seeing_   ** _Daichi_** _again_ , Kenma thought, but this time, they didn’t say anything.

 

 


	2. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata is in too deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: some mentions of bullying (nothing too serious or detailed), and a brief mention of misgendering, otherwise no major TWs
> 
> Kenma and Hinata are both DFAB in this, just FYI.

Two weeks, Hinata quickly learned, was a long time to wait. Ever since that night, he was unable to get Kenma out of his head, and he found himself counting down the days, the hours, until he got to see them again.  He wished he had gotten Kenma’s number, or their dorm address, or at least talked to them more while they were together, because the incomprehensible feeling he had gotten when he was with them was one he had never experienced before.  He wanted to talk to them about everything: gender, passing, stimming; he wanted to know if Kenma had any special interests, and if they would be willing to listen to him ramble about volleyball, _his_  special interest, one that got him so excited that even Kageyama “Ball is Life” Tobio had to tell him to shut up.  He had never known another autistic person his age before, and especially not one as queer, and as unbelievably _cool_ , as Kenma.  

It took about four days for his roommate to ask about them. It was evening, and Hinata had just returned from volleyball practice and was changing into pajamas with his back to the room while Lev lay sprawled on his bed, studying. As Hinata put on his binder, despite knowing he had to take it off in a few hours to sleep, he found himself idly wondering if Kenma wore a binder also, realizing yet again just how little he knew about the kid who had been the subject of his thoughts for the past week.  He was humming softly to himself when Lev spoke.

“Hey, Shouyou, I meant to ask you earlier, who was that guy with the bad dye job who was in your bed the other night?”

Hinata turned around. “Their name is Kenma, and they _don’t_  have a bad dye job!”

Lev chuckled.  “Who are they, though? Were you gonna sleep with them if I hadn’t come in?”

“Of course not!” Hinata cried, finding himself on the defensive. “They’re just a friend, and besides, they’re asexual.”

“Right,” Lev replied, and turned back to his studying. Hinata sighed, deciding he didn’t really feel like doing any work tonight.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced. “I have volleyball practice tomorrow morning.”

“I still don’t understand how you made the team and I didn’t,” Lev remarked.  “I mean, I could totally—”

“Yeah, yeah, you wanted to be the ace. You’ve told me before,” Hinata interrupted, realizing after the words left his mouth that he probably sounded extremely rude. Lev only sounded a little offended when he replied,

“Hey, it’s not like _you_  don’t repeat yourself a lot, especially when it comes to volleyball.”

“Right. Sorry.” Hinata crossed the room and flopped down on his bed.  A few minutes later, Lev packed up his books and turned out the light, and as Hinata drifted into sleep he wondered whether Kenma would like his roommate or not, and if he would even get a chance to find out.

 

* * *

 

Friday, June 11th, the day of the next club meeting, finally rolled around, and Hinata was so excited he woke up an hour earlier than he was supposed to. Too eager to go back to sleep, he decided to get ready, and practically sprinted over to Kageyama’s dorm to wake him up for practice. Kageyama’s roommate, Aone, opened the door when Hinata knocked, and when he saw Hinata, red-faced and out-of-breath and grinning, he rolled his eyes and moved to shake Kageyama awake. Kageyama yawned widely.

“Ugh, what time is–Why are you here so _early_ , Hinata?”

Hinata shrugged. “No reason. Come on, I bet you I’ll beat you to the gym today!”

“Not happening!” Kageyama growled, springing to his feet and quickly throwing on his practice clothes and shoes.

“Your shirt’s on backwards!” Aone called, but Kageyama didn’t hear as he sprinted out the door and tore down the hallway after his best friend.

* * *

 

Hinata could barely focus during his last lecture that day. It didn’t help that the only open seat when he’d come in had been one in the very back row, in between Kageyama and a blue-haired kid he didn’t know, who was asleep with his head on his desk, and didn’t wake up when class started. As the professor droned on, Hinata found himself fidgeting more than usual, to the point where Kageyama had to physically hold him still.  The lecture dragged on for what felt like hours. At one point, the boy next to him woke up and lifted his head, staring at Hinata with bleary blue eyes.

“You should come to the bike race this afternoon,” he slurred, his voice groggy. Hinata started to say that he had a club meeting to go to, but the boy had already put his head back down and was fast asleep once more.

At last, the professor announced the end of the lecture, and Hinata leapt to his feet, following Kageyama and the tide of students making their way to the door in the back of the lecture hall. Walking briskly, the two left the building and headed over to the club room, which was in the student center on the other side of campus.  

“This better be worth missing practice for,” Kageyama growled as they walked.

“It will be,” Hinata assured. He grinned up at Kageyama, who was frowning, but he didn’t seem upset.

When they arrived at the club room, everyone else was already inside. Oikawa grinned and waved as the two entered. Hinata quickly scanned the room, looking for Kenma. They were sitting crosslegged at the edge of the rug, but Hinata noticed with a twinge of disappointment that they were with Kuroo again. It would probably be difficult to talk to them with him there.  Still, he dragged Kageyama over and sat down at the empty space next to them, grinning.

“Hey, Hinata-kun,” Kenma said quietly.

“You can call me Shouyou,” Hinata blurted on impulse, remembering how even Lev, his somewhat annoying roommate and at least ten levels lower on his friendship ladder than Kenma was, called him by his first name. Behind him, Kageyama raised an eyebrow at Kuroo, who shrugged.

“Oh...okay.”

Iwaizumi clapped his hands, and the room fell silent.

“Great, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started. Today, I thought we’d start out by watching a movie, and then we can discuss it afterwards.” He picked up a DVD case and loaded the disc into a player resting on the TV stand at the front of the room. Oikawa jumped up to turn off the lights, and then slid smoothly into Iwaizumi’s lap as the movie started.

Within the first few minutes, Hinata could already tell that it was going to be boring as all hell. It was some documentary about the history of transgender rights, and while Hinata had to admit it was relevant to the club, anything that wasn’t volleyball was just so _boring_  to him, and the narrator’s dull, monotone voice wasn’t helping.  Hinata had very few intense special interests, volleyball being the main one, and with everything else, he was bored, distracted, and impatient.

Next to him, Kenma seemed to be feeling the same way, because, about ten minutes in, they pulled a DS out of the pocket of their hoodie and turned it on, their face illuminated by the harsh white glow. Hinata leaned over to watch them.

Although he personally didn’t like video games all that much, Hinata quickly discovered that watching Kenma play was unbelievably interesting. Kenma was _really_  good, and they got so into it. Their catlike golden eyes narrowed in concentration, and their tongue poked out from between their parted lips as their fingers flew at the buttons of their console; every so often, when they took a particularly bad hit from the boss they were battling, they would grunt quietly, or let out a happy squeak when they won a battle or their character leveled up.  It was captivating, to say the least. Finally, Kenma’s head lifted as their character lost to the boss, and they briefly locked eyes with Hinata before looking down again.

“You really love games, don’t you?” Hinata finally said.

Kenma nodded, even smiled a little. “Always have.”

Hinata smiled back. “What’s your favorite type of game?” he asked.

Kenma blinked at him, shrugged. “Hmm...well, I’ve always enjoyed Pokemon, ever since I was little, but, I mean, I really like fighting games too, and...well, you probably don’t want to hear all this. Sorry.”

They trailed off, the spark in their voice that lasted for a mere moment fading out as quickly as it had ignited. They looked down at their hands.

“No, it’s fine,” Hinata insisted. “You should talk about it if it makes you happy.” He must’ve been too loud, though, because Iwaizumi turned around and flashed the two a warning glare. Kenma turned their DS back on and Hinata leaned in, contenting himself with watching them play. He could talk about games after the movie was over, anyway.

Watching Kenma play was fascinating and more exciting than anything, but all too soon, of course, the movie came to an end.  In the moment that dragged on while the credits rolled, Hinata looked around the room. Iwaizumi, Sugawara, and Daichi seemed to be the only ones who were actually paying attention to the movie; Oikawa was playing on his phone sitting in Iwaizumi’s lap, all bony legs and arms and torso, but Iwaizumi didn’t seem to mind being pinned to the floor by his tall boyfriend. Next to Kenma, Kuroo was just waking up, lifting his head from where it had lolled over onto Daichi’s shoulder; Kiyoko and Yachi seemed to be watching each other more than the actual movie; Asahi was asleep, and Tanaka and Nishinoya were sitting on either side of her, taking turns poking her arms and stomach. Oikawa slid out of Iwaizumi’s lap and crossed the room to turn the lights back on. While the group blinked to adjust their eyes to the sudden brightness, Iwaizumi stood up, switched off the TV, and turned to address the group.

“So,” he said. “Any thoughts on the movie?”

He was met with silence. He sighed, rubbed his forehead, and tried again. “Okay, first of all, did anyone actually _watch_  the movie?”

“I did,” Sugawara said, and Iwaizumi smiled, but he looked tired. “It was really interesting, actually.”

“Thank you, Suga,” Iwaizumi said, giving them a nod. “Anyone else?”

No one spoke. Hinata fidgeted with his hands. Eventually, Oikawa looked at his phone, and then sat up to whisper something in Iwaizumi’s ear. Iwaizumi nodded.

“Well, it’s starting to get late, and I know you all probably have places you need to be. Why don’t we meet again at this time in two weeks? I promise I’ll come up with a better activity next time.”

Everyone stood to leave.  Kenma left with Kuroo before Hinata could stop them, but as he left with Kageyama, he saw his friend at the end of the hallway and ran to catch up.

“Wait! Kenma!”

They turned around. “Oh. Shouyou.”

Hinata tried to catch his breath. “B-before you go, can I get your number? Like, so we can still talk without having to wait two weeks to see each other again?”

Kenma blinked at him. “Um, sure. One second.”

They dug through their pockets and found a scrap of paper. Kuroo tossed them a pencil stub, and they quickly scrawled out their number. Hinata took the paper, grinning, just as Kageyama caught up to them.

“I’ll text you tonight!” he called over his shoulder as Kageyama dragged him in the other direction towards the stairs.  

“O-okay,” Kenma said quietly, as they turned to follow Kuroo back to their dorm.  As soon as they stepped outside, their phone buzzed in their pocket.

 

**[07:37PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**from: ??**

**hi its shouyou !!!!!!!! (＾▽＾)/**

 

They smiled. Shouyou _would_.  

“What is it?” Kuroo asked, raising an eyebrow at them. Kenma shrugged.

“Nothing,” they said, as they quickly saved the number to their contacts as **shouyou ☆**.

 

* * *

 

**[08:01PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**hey ………………….**

**[08:05PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**!!!!!!!!**

**[08:08PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**im happy i promise**

**[08:08PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**from: shouyou ☆**

**(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧**

 

* * *

 

Two weeks didn’t feel so long when Hinata could talk to Kenma anytime he wanted. They texted every day and saw each other whenever they could, even it was only for a few minutes to walk together or play video games.

It took a few more meetings for Iwaizumi to hit his stride with the group activities, but as everyone grew more comfortable with each other it got easier. Besides Kenma and Kageyama, Hinata grew fairly friendly with Nishinoya. The short, loud-mouthed boy was fun to be around—he was energetic, funny, and, most importantly, he was willing to listen to Hinata talk about volleyball. Noya used to play in high school, and, beyond that, he just seemed to like watching Hinata get so excited about something. Hinata didn’t really talk to him outside of club meetings, though, and he found Tanaka, Noya’s roommate and best friend, to be scary and intimidating.  

Kenma, though. Hinata had never felt so at ease around anyone before, and even though most people were confusing and hard to read, he could tell that Kenma felt the same. They texted each other nonstop, and Hinata quickly grew accustomed to Kenma’s idiosyncrasies, could figure out what they were feeling from their often undescriptive texts. It was no surprise, then, that Hinata realized, after only a few weeks, that he had fallen for them, _hard_. It was the video games that did it. Kenma was playing Pokemon, and they had just caught a legendary bird, and, as they typed “Shouyou” into the nickname window, they looked back at him and smiled. Their tongue was poking slightly out from between their lips, and their golden eyes were glinting, and Hinata knew he was in deep.

Nothing came out of this crush until the last week of June. For almost three weeks now, Hinata had been unable to get Kenma out of his head. On Thursday evening, he got a text from Kenma.

 

**[10:24PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**mtg 2morrow !!!**

 

Hinata’s heart leapt at seeing the message, but quickly sank when he remembered he had a volleyball game Friday evening.

 

**[10:24PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**from: shouyou ☆**

**i cant go (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻**

**[10:30PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**why not …………**

**[10:32PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**? ???**

**[10:32PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**from: shouyou ☆**

**i have a volleyball game (✖╭╮✖)**

**[10:34PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**oh ……**

**[10:34PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**from: shouyou ☆**

**yeah (´ヘ｀;) i like volleyball but id rather see you (~￣▽￣)~**

**[10:40PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Hinata sighed a little, and put his phone down on his pillow to go get ready for bed. When he came back, there was a new text from Kenma.

 

**[10:46PM]**

**to: shouyou ☆**

**from: kenma !!! ☆☆☆♡ ! ＼(o⌒∇⌒o)/**

**good luck in ur game !!!**

Hinata smiled in spite of himself, fired off a quick “ **thanks (^▽^) have fun @ the mtg** ” text message to Kenma, and went to bed.

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Hinata made sure to get to the locker room a good hour before everyone else would start to arrive, despite Kageyama’s protests at being dragged away from his lunch.  Even though most of the team knew he was trans, he didn’t really feel comfortable changing in front of them.  Apart from Kageyama, Hinata wasn’t even friendly with any of his teammates, and most of them didn’t particularly like him either; he and Kageyama were the only first-years who made the first string, and all of the upperclassmen were intimidating and mean, at least to Hinata. He often found himself missing his old high school team, which had grown extremely close, and everyone on that team had been supportive both of his autism and of his transition.  His current teammates, however, often teased him and laughed at him, making jokes that he didn’t understand just to watch him fall flat in his effort to interpret them, mocking his hand motions and stims, teasing him for being so absolutely and unconditionally in love with volleyball where his high school teammates had appreciated him and even looked up to him for it.  

Hinata and Kageyama hadn’t gotten along at first—they came from rival high schools, and their personalities weren’t exactly compatible—but between their complementary talents and their tendency to be the butt of the upperclassmen’s jokes, they bonded fairly quickly, and before he met Kenma, Hinata considered Kageyama his best, and only, friend.  Hinata had slowly gotten used to his teammates’ constant bullying, and besides, his love for volleyball would’ve prevented him from quitting either way, but today, he decided, he did not want to have to deal with any of it. He was already upset that he was missing the LGBT club meeting, and his chance to see Kenma.  He changed into his uniform as quickly as possible.

“Let’s go to the gym,” he announced, bouncing in place as he waited for Kageyama to finish tying his shoes.  “I wanna practice my spikes with you.”

“Like I’d ever toss to you,” Kageyama snorted, but he was smiling, so Hinata decided he was joking. He laughed.

“Come on,” he whined. “I’m gonna score a bunch of points today, so I have to be on my game!”

“Alright,” Kageyama said finally, standing up. Hinata grinned, and led the way to the gym.

* * *

 

The game was an easy win; the team they were playing was not very good, and they didn’t have to put in very much effort in order to beat them.  Hinata, of course, tried his hardest; part of the fun of volleyball was the things he could do when he gave it his all, but although the game was fun for him as always, he couldn’t help thinking as they lined up and bowed that he might’ve had just as much fun hanging out with Kenma and the rest of the LGBT club.  He sighed, and followed Kageyama and the rest of his teammates out to the locker room. As he was approaching the gym door, Yamamoto, one of the third-year spikers who was walking behind him, came up to him.

“Hey, Hinata-kun,” he called out. “I think your _boyfriend_  wants to talk to you.”

Hinata whirled around, confused by the weird tone that Yamamoto had used when he said

‘boyfriend’.  “Are you sure that's not his girlfriend?” Nobuyuki, a second-year middle blocker, taunted. “He looked more like a girl to me.”

Hinata’s eyes narrowed as he realized who his teammates were talking about. Shoving Kageyama aside, he pushed past them and ran back into the gym.  Sure enough, there was Kenma, standing somewhat awkwardly at the edge of the court, wearing an oversized hoodie, sweatpants, and a deep blush that suggested that they’d heard Hinata’s teammates’ taunting.  Hinata’s face lit up when he saw them.

“Kenma!” he squealed, unable to contain his excitement as he ran towards his friend. “I can’t believe you actually _came!_   I mean, I was sad I wouldn’t get to see you at the meeting, but I didn’t think you’d actually come watch me play, even though it’s loud, and there’s a lot of people, and—”

He broke off, panting, when he saw a smile spread across Kenma’s face. “I-I’m glad you appreciate me coming,” they said quietly.  

“Of course I do!” Hinata replied eagerly. “I still can’t believe–did you really skip the meeting to come watch me?”

“Yeah,” Kenma replied, a trace of laughter in their voice. “Kuroo thought I was going insane.”

Hinata was suddenly reminded of where they were: in the middle of a crowded gym after their university had just won a volleyball game, with half of the team still frozen in the doorway, watching them.  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he twisted his hands together.  “Wanna go get dinner or something? Instead of standing here, I mean?”

Kenma chuckled. “Sure. Can we stop by my dorm room first, though? I need to get my DS.”

Hinata started walking, but then froze in his tracks. “Y-you didn’t bring your DS?”

Kenma shrugged. “Uh...no. I didn’t. I...I wanted to watch you play. It was interesting, actually. I can tell you really love volleyball.”

“Wow,” was the only thing Hinata could say to that. Not only were video games Kenma’s special interest, but they had a tendency to use them as a sort of crutch in social situations, and the fact that they had left that behind, had wanted to watch Hinata play without any distractions, meant a lot. Hinata knew that much. He grinned at Kenma.

“Um...should we go?” Kenma asked. Hinata nodded. When they got outside, Hinata, on impulse, reached for Kenma’s hand. Kenma jolted in surprise, but took it.  Their hand was warm, and the skin was soft; they gave his hand a little squeeze, and Hinata blushed.

Hinata somehow made it all the way to Kenma’s dorm without any injuries to himself or Kenma’s arms, although by the time they reached the door to Kenma and Kuroo’s dorm room both of their faces were flushed deep red, and they were too flustered to speak. Was this a friend thing? Was there something more that Hinata hadn’t picked up on?  Kenma took a deep breath to compose themself and unlocked the door.

Hinata peered in from around the door frame. The room looked identical to his own: same furnishings, same plain gray walls, same piles of dirty clothes and books on the floor (though Kenma’s side of the room was considerably cleaner than either Hinata’s, Lev’s, or Kuroo’s).  Kuroo was laying on his bed, and sat up when Kenma entered.

“Hey Kenma, Hinata.” Kuroo gave them a little wave, then stretched out on his back.  “Whatcha guys doing?”

Kenma crossed the room, picked up their DS from the bedside table, and slipped it into the pocket of their hoodie before replying.

“Shouyou and I were just going to go get some dinner. You wanna come?”

Kuroo stared up at the ceiling. “Nah, I’ll pass,” he said.

“Oh...okay,” Kenma replied, and turned to the door.

“Have fun on your date!” Kuroo called out as they left, Hinata at their side.

Hinata managed to get halfway down the hallway before the meaning of what Kuroo said fully sunk in, and he froze in his tracks. Kenma looked over at him, his brows furrowed.

“Is this actually a _date_?” Hinata said, incredulously.  Kenma shrugged.

“I dunno. Do...do you want it to be a date?”

Hinata stared, dumbfounded. He _did_  have a crush on Kenma, after all, and his heart _had_  nearly leapt out of his chest when Kuroo had said the word date. But...Kenma was aromantic, and while Hinata wasn’t sure exactly what that entailed, he didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. Finally, he managed to stammer out, “Do _you_?” before all the heat rushing to his face could set his body on fire.  

Kenma looked down at their feet, shoving their hands into their pockets.  “Um...well...I-I guess I’m not really good with, uh, romantic stuff, but…”

Hinata’s heart sank, but he tried his hardest not to let it show. “Th-that’s okay, we don’t have to date, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything...I’m sorry for asking.”

It was a few moments before Kenma responded. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Their voice was so soft that Hinata barely heard it.  He waited, and finally, they continued.  “I...um, I’d be okay with a relationship, actually. I mean, I don’t really feel romantic feelings towards people, but, well, I definitely do feel _something_  for you. Different than platonic, I mean.”

Hinata looked at them in wonder.  “So, like, a queerplatonic relationship?

Kenma nodded slowly. “Yeah...I think that’s the word. At least, that’s what Kuroo says.”

“Are you and Kuroo dating?” _Dammit_ , Hinata thought. He was _so close_ —

“N-not really,” Kenma said quietly. “Our relationship is sort of queerplatonic, I guess, but, uh, we never really made it official?”

Hinata nodded, even though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a question.  “So, are we official then?”

Kenma smiled. “Sure.”

Hinata couldn’t help but grin. He felt light, all of a sudden, like if he lifted even one foot off the ground he’d float away.  “If it’s official, can I do this?” He reached for Kenma’s hand, causing a blush to color the blonde’s cheeks.

“Yeah, you can,” they murmured, and Hinata caught a smile on their face as, staring at the ground, they took his hand and squeezed.

 

* * *

Dinner that night was the longest Kenma had ever had, mostly because neither of them wanted to end it.  Conversation flowed easier than it ever had for either of them, when they were with anyone besides the other.  Hinata was ecstatic about this relationship, Kenma knew that much. He didn’t seem very upset that Kenma didn’t have romantic feelings for him, and Kenma didn’t feel any pressure when they were around him, which was surprisingly relaxing.  Their DS stayed in their pocket the entire night.

Finally, though, they knew it had to come to an end. Taking Hinata’s hand, they walked back to the dorms. They stopped in front of Hinata’s door, wrapping the shorter boy into a tight hug. They tangled their fingers in his messy orange hair as he pressed his face into their chest. Neither of them wanted to let go, but finally, Hinata pulled away, fumbling in his pockets for his key.

“Thank you for tonight,” Kenma said quietly, wrapping their arms around Hinata’s waist.

“We’ll do this again,” Hinata assured, unlocking his door and slipping inside the darkened room. Kenma spent a few minutes staring at Hinata’s door, before finally turning towards their own dorm. As they walked, they slipped their phone out of their pocket and stared at it wistfully, as if willing a message from Hinata to appear. It didn’t, but they turned on the screen anyway, and, as soon as they got into their dorm, they went into Hinata’s contact, and changed his name to **shouyou ♡♡**. They stretched out on their bed, staring at the little hearts as their vision blurred with tiredness, and before they drifted off into sleep, they fired off a quick text.

 

**[11:18PM]**

**to: shouyou ♡♡**

**from: kenma !!! ♡♡ ♡ ♡  ! (✿ ♥‿♥) ♡**

**dinner again 2morrow? ill pay**

**[11:18PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ♡♡ ♡ ♡  ! (✿ ♥‿♥) ♡**

**from: shouyou ♡♡**

**sure!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ლ(╹◡╹ლ)**

**[11:19PM]**

**to: kenma !!! ♡♡ ♡ ♡  ! (✿ ♥‿♥) ♡**

**from: shouyou ♡♡**

**i love u  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥**

" **i love u 2** " Kenma managed to text back, before they drifted off into a deep, happy sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's it for Kenhina, folks! Well, as a major focus at least. Each ship is going to be the major focus of 1-2 chapters, so next chapter will be a different ship.


	3. July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga and Daichi are really bad at flirting, and Kuroo is really drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: alcohol is referenced at the end of the chapter. It won't really play a big role in this chapter, but it definitely will in the next one.

It was a heavy sort of morning, one of those slow, sweltering Sundays where the humid air had an unbearable weight and life seemed to move in slow motion, the world sluggish and sticky from the heat.  Neither Daichi nor Sugawara wanted to get out of bed, but eventually the combined heat of both of their bodies and the summer air drew them out of the bedroom.

Daichi yawned widely, arching his back in a stretch as he dragged his groggy body over to a chair at the table in the center of the apartment.  

“Daichi, you lazy ass,” Suga groaned in response to his loud yawn, plodding over to the kitchen. Daichi watched their bare feet pressing against the tile floor and the muscles in their legs bunching as they moved, his eyes trailing up to their ass, well-defined in their gray boxer shorts, and their smooth, muscular back. Suga turned, narrowing their eyes at Daichi.

“You _always_  force me to make breakfast,” they griped, goodnaturedly. Daichi leaned back in his seat.

“I love you,” he responded, a bit whiny, drawing out the syllables.

“I love you too, Daichi,” Suga grumbled, as they turned to pull a carton of eggs and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge.

Daichi sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him and lacing his hands together behind his head. Suga started to fry the eggs, humming quietly to themself. Even from behind, they were beautiful, and Daichi constantly thanked the universe for aligning in such a way that he had the privilege of being their boyfriend. The two had been dating since the beginning of their second year, and ever since they moved into this apartment at the beginning of third year, this past April, Daichi felt like he was living a dream, being able to spend practically every waking moment not in class with his datemate.

“Breakfast is ready, you doof,” Suga called out finally, scraping the eggs out of the pan and onto two plates.  They poured two glasses of orange juice and brought the food over to the table, still humming.  They stopped behind Daichi’s chair, placing his plate in front of him and wrapping their arms around his neck. Daichi looked up at them, smiling.

“Thank you,” he said, and Suga bent down to kiss his forehead before untangling their arms and sitting down across from him. The couple ate without speaking, the only sound being the clink of forks against their plates and the heavy breathing of two hungry twenty-somethings shoveling food into their mouths.  Finally, finishing his juice and setting the glass down on the table, Daichi spoke.

“Got any plans for today?”

Suga paused, their fork hovering in midair as they considered his question. “Ah, probably not.  Well, it’s my day to tend the garden for Horticulture class, and I told Asahi I’d help her with her physics problem sets later this evening. Did you want to do something?”

Daichi shrugged, shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth.  “I didn’t really have anything in particular in mind, I guess. Just wanted to spend time with you, but if you’re busy today I understand.”

Suga chuckled, that soft, almost musical laugh that Daichi had fallen in love with from the moment he’d met them.  “What, do you think I’d let a stupid garden get in the way of being with my boyfriend? What kind of awful datemate do you think I am?”

“I dunno, man,” Daichi teased, setting his fork down onto his plate. “You never look at _me_  the way you look at those peas. Frankly, I’m a bit jealous.”

Suga snorted, swatting playfully at Daichi’s arm. “You think I’m cheating on you with a plant?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Mmm, you have a point there,” Suga hummed. “At least the plants aren’t lazy dorks who make me cook for them when they’re  _perfectly capable_  of frying an egg by themselves.”

Daichi laughed. “That’s rude, Suga. Hey, at least I’m pretty.”

Suga stood and picked up their plate. “Huh. Well, you’re not wrong,” they said, taking Daichi’s plate and pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek before bringing the dishes to the sink and starting to wash them.

“ _Now_  you’re talking some sense.  So, are you gonna need help with the garden, or what?”

Suga shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind it. You might not want to spend your Sunday gardening, though.”

“Nah,” Daichi reassured, crossing the apartment and walking over to stand behind Suga at the sink.  He wrapped his arms around their waist. “As long as I can spend time with you, I’m happy.”

“Well, I’m not intending to change that anytime soon, so you’re in luck.”  Daichi bent slightly to kiss the top of Suga’s head, his hands lightly massaging their hips.  Suga finished washing the dishes and untangled themself from Daichi’s grip, heading back over to the bedroom.  Daichi followed them, and the two quickly dressed and headed outside.

 

* * *

 

The sun beat down on them as they worked on the garden, drawing the sweat out onto their skin and soaking their hair.  The heat was oppressive and his body was sluggish, but Daichi found himself enjoying the work he was doing; watering plants, helping Suga pull out weeds, trimming and plucking and digging.  The hydrangeas were in full bloom, and Daichi picked a purple bud and tucked it behind Suga’s ear.  Suga chuckled, smiling at him, and they looked so gorgeous standing there like that, sweaty and slightly flushed with glimmering brown eyes and tiny purple petals poking out from between waves of silver hair that Daichi had no choice to pick them another.

“Hey, don’t take the whole garden!” Suga chided.  “I have to leave _some_ flowers for the rest of the class!”

 _Suga’s so pretty_ , Daichi found himself thinking. _Time to turn on the charm._

“Well hey, if I were a flower–wait, no, if you were a garden–no, if you were a flower–uhhh...are you a—oh, forget it.”

 _Smooth, Daichi._  Suga blinked at him, a small smile spreading on their face.

“It’s not my fault!” Daichi pleaded. “You’re just so beautiful, I can’t even think straight!”

Suga laughed, and Daichi’s face flushed.  “Heh...get it...like–cuz-cuz I’m gay?” he tried, feebly.  Suga rolled their eyes, but they were grinning.

“Why are you so dumb, Daichi?” they said, fondly.

“Y-yeah,” Daichi agreed, his face flushing even more.  “Like, I...I dunno why I said that actually...I mean–I’m actually pan, I don’t really know why I said I’m gay, it just kind of…” His voice trailed off as he realized his situation was hopeless.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, you big dork,” Suga laughed. “Hey, after this, wanna go out to lunch? My treat.”

“Sure,” Daichi replied, smiling, and, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, returned to his work.

 

* * *

 

They decided to eat at a small café close to campus.  When they got inside, their faces buffeted by a blast of air conditioning, the waitress led them to a table by the window and handed them menus printed on flowery paper.  “Thank you,” Suga said, smiling up at her as they sat down, and she gave the two a nod and scurried away.

“Thank god for air conditioning,” Daichi sighed, stretching back in his seat.

“Mhmm,” Suga hummed, watching the pleasure dance across their boyfriend’s face as his overheated body was soothed by the café’s chilly air.  They wiped their forehead with their napkin and smiled fondly at him.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned. Suga and Daichi ordered lunch and cold drinks, and as she turned to leave, Daichi caught her gaze lingering on the two of them.  He was used to the stares by now; Daichi generally presented as masculine, and while Suga presented more androgynous, they still got mistaken for male sometimes. Neither Daichi nor Suga felt self-conscious, though, and besides, they were happy enough with each other that they didn’t care what strangers thought.

Their food came, and they ate in silence, slowly savoring their meal and the pleasant view outside.  Daichi stared out the window, watching as a student wearing the jersey of the university cycling team rode by on his bicycle.  Even from where Daichi was sitting, he could see the sweat on the athlete’s skin and the curves of his well-defined muscles as he pedaled, his reddish-brown hair flowing in the wind.   

“I’m right here, you know,” Suga said suddenly, and Daichi whipped around. _Dammit_ , Suga had noticed him staring at the biker before even Daichi had been aware of it.  Daichi felt his face heat up a little.

“What do you mean?” Daichi quickly responded, feigning ignorance.

“I _s_ _ee_  you checking that guy out. You’re not exactly being sneaky about it.”

“I am  _not_ checking him out!” Daichi insisted.  “I don’t even need to, when I can stare at you any day.”

“That’s sweet, Daichi,” Suga said dryly.  “But you don’t need to deny it.  I’d understand completely if you’re getting a little...you know...” They trailed off, searching for the right word.

“You think I’m not satisfied with our relationship?” Daichi asked, quickly sobering.

Suga took a moment before replying. “Mm...I’m not denying that you love me, of course, but I know that there are some things that I just can’t provide. If you feel unfulfilled, sexually I mean, I understand.”

“Suga,” was all Daichi could say. “Suga. I love you more than anything in the world, and I would never—”

“It’s okay, Daichi,” Suga cut him off. “I’d rather you tell me the truth. I’m not offended. In any case, all I ask is that you communicate with me, no matter what. Okay?”

Daichi sighed, smiling weakly at them. They hadn’t really had this conversation before, but had both assumed that they always told each other everything. It was generally always true, and besides, Daichi didn’t _think_  he was sexually frustrated, so it was unlikely that there would be any problems. That, at least, was comfort enough.   “Y-yeah. Okay. Thank you, Suga.”

Suga smiled back. Their expression lightened suddenly.

“So...wanna get some ice cream after this?”

 

* * *

 

The weeks passed, and between LGBT club activities and the rapid approach of finals and summer break, Daichi quickly forgot about his conversation with Suga. He barely had time to think about _anything_ , let alone the possibility of him being unfulfilled in his relationship.  The day that finals ended, Daichi was walking back from his calculus exam when Bokuto, an acquaintance of his from the class, jogged up to him.

“Oi, Sawamura!” he called out, and Daichi slowed his pace to let him catch up.  “What’s up?

“Oh hey, Bokuto. Uh, the sky?”

Bokuto laughed in spite of the tired joke.  “Oho ho! Good one, Sawamura! So, how do you think you did on that exam?”

Daichi shrugged. “Ah, I did fine. There were a few that I didn’t understand, but that’s nothing new. You?”

Bokuto gave a snort in response. Daichi shook his head. “You know, you probably should’ve studied.”

Bokuto laughed, but quickly turned serious. “Yo, Sawamura. I’m having a party at my place on Saturday night, to celebrate the end of the term and all. You wanna come? You can bring your boyfr—uh, your—you can bring Sugawara if you want.”

Daichi frowned, scratching his forehead in thought. “I think Suga has to go visit their parents, so I’m not sure if they’ll be around. But I might be able to come.”

“Really? Yes!” Bokuto exclaimed loudly, punching his fist in the air in a characteristically exaggerated display of enthusiasm.  Daichi smiled.

“Well, see you Saturday? Most likely.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait. It’s going to be a blast!” Bukoto called, as Daichi slung his bag back over his shoulder and walked off towards his apartment.

 

When he got inside, Suga was stretched out on the couch, but they sat up and turned towards Daichi.

“Hey,” they said softly. Daichi dropped his bag onto the floor and crossed the room. He sat down on the arm of the couch next to Suga’s head, reaching down to ruffle his fingers through their silvery hair. Suga smiled up at him.

“How was your exam?” Suga asked. Daichi shrugged.

“Ah, it was alright. I’m just glad to be done with them all, honestly.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m exhausted.”

Daichi bent down quickly to kiss their forehead.

“Hey, what day are you leaving to go see your parents?”

Suga gave a quiet sigh. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering. Bokuto from my calc class invited us to an end-of-term party tomorrow night, but you’ll be gone by then, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Suga replied, smiling softly as Daichi resumed stroking their hair. “Sorry about that. You should still go, though.”

“Mm, I might.”

“Come on,” Suga insisted. Daichi’s fingers moved down to the base of their neck, where he started to rub gentle circles against their shoulder blades. “It’ll be fun. And anyway, you really need more of a social life. Besides me and Asahi, I mean.”

“I don’t _j_ _ust_  have you and her; I’ve got the LGBT club, and—okay. Fine, I’ll go.”

"Good. You deserve to have a little fun every once in a while."

"Mmm," Daichi hummed. Suga looked up at them, a faint smile on their face, and Daichi had no choice but to bend down and kiss those beautiful lips.

 

* * *

 

Saturday evening came along, and Daichi quickly showered before moving to stand in front of his closet, deciding on an outfit. He had no idea what the attire for the party was, or how formal it was going to be, but he ended up deciding on a pair of nice slacks, a white dress shirt, and a blazer. Formal, but not overly fancy.

When he got to the door of Bokuto's apartment, he could hear the slightly-muffled din of the crowd inside, and he felt the low vibrations of the bass, stronger than the melodies of the music it came from. He rang the doorbell.

A minute later, Bokuto opened the door. He grinned when he saw Daichi.

"Sawamura!" he exclaimed, loud as ever. "I'm so glad you came!"

"Uh, yeah. Hey," Daichi said somewhat awkwardly, noticing with a twinge of embarrassment as Bokuto led him inside that he was extremely overdressed: the crowds of other college kids packed into the apartment barely bigger than Daichi's own were all wearing jeans and t-shirts.

Daichi didn't know how Bokuto had managed to fit so many people in the apartment. The music was blaring, and the babble of chatter was almost deafening. Most people were holding beer bottles or plastic cups, but it was still early, and no one seemed very drunk yet.  Daichi pushed his way towards an empty chair near the kitchen and sat down, glad to be at the edge of the room.

"Want a beer?" a voice called from behind him. He turned to see Akaashi, Bokuto's roommate, standing at the counter. "Uh, Sawamoto-kun, was it?"

"It's Sawamura. And nah, I think I'm good. Thanks, though."

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Daichi leaned back, watching the party and feeling mildly uncomfortable. He wasn't a big fan of parties in general, and it didn't help that he didn't know a single person here.

As time dragged on, the music surged louder and the guests got drunker. At one point, a green-haired guy and the tanned guy who he was grinding against moved towards the edge of the crowd; as Daichi watched, they stumbled backwards, nearly landing in Daichi's lap.

"Sos-sorry," the tanned one slurred, pushing his headband back into his sweaty black hair.  Daichi nodded at them, trying to keep his expression blank as he rose to his feet and scanned the room for another place to sit.

He found a couch at the other side of the living room and edged through the crowd, his senses bombarded with the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol.  Groaning, he sank down on the couch, which was thankfully empty.  Absentmindedly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, noticing as he did so that he had a new text message from Suga.

**[10:43PM]**

**to: Daichi ♥︎**

**from: sugawara ♥︎**

**Im at my parents house rn. They want me to stay for the whole break.**

 

Daichi sighed, and typed out a quick response.

 

**[11:58PM]**

**to: sugawara ♥︎**

**from: Daichi ♥︎**

**:( ok**

 

Moments later, his phone buzzed with a response.

 

**[11:58PM]**

**to: Daichi ♥︎**

**from: sugawara ♥︎**

**Sorry. You at the party rn?**

 

**[11:59PM]**

**to: sugawara ♥︎**

**from: Daichi ♥︎**

**yeah its rly loud and i dont kno any1 here**

**[12:00AM]**

**to: Daichi ♥︎**

**from: sugawara ♥︎**

**That sucks Im sorry. Ugh my moms making me go look at photo albums rn I gtg**

**[12:00AM]**

**to: sugawara ♥︎**

**from: Daichi ♥︎**

**ok :( see u soon**

 

Daichi groaned, seeing that his phone battery was down to 20%. He should’ve remembered to charge it before he left. Sighing, he turned it off and slipped it back into the pocket of his slacks. This had to be the most boring party ever invented, he decided. Maybe he could leave as soon as everyone was drunk enough to not notice him.  He scanned the crowd, impatiently looking for someone interesting to watch, but his focus was broken by a shout.

"Ayy, Daichi!"

Daichi _knew_  that voice. He looked up.

"Daichi! I didn't know you'd be here!" called Kuroo Tetsurou. Daichi groaned. Kuroo was hard enough to deal with when he was sober, let alone when he was obviously absolutely shitfaced.

"Um, yeah. I-I didn't know you'd be here either..."

Kuroo grinned, draping himself over the couch, his hips uncomfortably close to Daichi's.  Daichi felt himself blush a little, which prompted Kuroo to start giggling.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?"

Daichi's face flushed further. "Kuroo, you're so drun—I mean, you're...how much alcohol did you do?"

Kuroo flashed that lopsided grin of his.  "How much have _you_  had, Daichi? You can't do alcohol, dumbass. You could do me, though."

Daichi groaned, raking his mind for a snappy comeback but coming up with nothing. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until Daichi's face faded back to its normal color, and he decided to try to make conversation.

"Bokuto never told me the attire for this party. Weird, huh? I would've never worn this suit."

Kuroo grinned, and Daichi recognized that glint in his eyes.  "I like the suit, it looks good on you.  It would look better on my bedroom floor, though. If you want, I can help you get it off."

Daichi felt his face redden. _That_  was too far.  He stood up abruptly.

"Where ya going? Can I come?" Kuroo asked, his voice singsong.

"I'll be right back," Daichi grumbled, as he made his way across the room to the kitchen, deciding to take Akaashi up on his earlier offer. If he was going to let this happen, he sure as hell didn't want to be sober.  Akaashi slid the cold beer across the counter, and Daichi gripped the bottle tightly. It was going to be a _l_ _ong_  night.

 

 


	4. August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real, Sugawara Koushi should win the award for datemate of the century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: two characters have sex while drunk. It is consensual, though the consent can be considered dubious since they're both extremely intoxicated.

Summer break seemed to drag on for an eternity. Daichi usually looked forward to breaks, but this time, it was different. Suga was gone, and Asahi was busy with her job, and Daichi didn’t even have any LGBT club meetings to occupy him. Despite this, however, the approach of break’s end had him sick with dread, and it was all because of that stupid party.

Daichi wished that he didn’t have to remember what had happened that night.  He had made his way back to the couch, a bottle of cold beer now gripped in his fingers, to find Kuroo sprawled out lengthwise across the seat.  Kuroo grinned as Daichi approached.

“You gonna make room for me?” Daichi asked, taking a swig of beer and grimacing a little at its taste.

“Nah,” Kuroo replied, a mischievous edge in his voice. Daichi sighed, gulping down the beer as quickly as he could, and, frowning, sat down on Kuroo’s legs. Kuroo yelped, but made no move to get Daichi off of him.

They sat in silence as Daichi finished his beer. He set the empty bottle down on the floor and stood up.

“I need another,” he announced, and pushed through the crowd until he reached the counter.

“Can I have, like, three more of those?” he asked. Akaashi raised an eyebrow.

“You sure about that? If you’re trying to get drunk, I can give you something a little stronger.”

Daichi frowned. “Will it taste better than the beer?”

Akaashi laughed. “You really don’t get out much, do you?”

Daichi shook his head, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Um, not usually?”

Chuckling, Akaashi turned around, disappearing into the depths of the kitchen. He returned moments later with a glass of liquid whose color Daichi couldn’t quite discern in the darkness of the apartment.

“Uh, thanks,” Daichi muttered, hesitantly taking the glass and bringing it back to the couch.  This time, Kuroo moved his legs to the side, and Daichi sat down.  He sniffed the drink, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Kuroo laughed.

“What’d he give you this time?”

“I-I’m not exactly sure,” Daichi replied. Feeling Kuroo’s eyes on him, he downed it as quickly as possible, having to physically restrain himself from spitting it all out. Kuroo burst out laughing, as Daichi sat there, coughing.

“Was that fucking  _vodka_?” Kuroo asked.

“I have no clue,” Daichi managed to choke out. “Fucking nasty shit.” He paused, waiting to feel its effects. Pushing himself standing, he felt a faint rush of dizziness, but nothing more.   _D_ _ammit_. “I need more,” he said.

“Hey, get me some too,” Kuroo called, and Daichi weaved through the crowd once more, a bit lightheaded.  Moments later, he returned with two glasses, and handed one over to Kuroo.

“Thanks, love,” Kuroo giggled.

“Cheers,” Daichi said dryly, and they both downed their glasses. He grimaced, while Kuroo grinned.

“Yup, that was vodka,” he proclaimed.

Despite the horrid taste, Daichi felt surprisingly better after the second drink, and the third, and the fourth.  Suddenly, Kuroo’s jokes were funny, even if Daichi had lost the ability to walk across the apartment to the counter without tripping a few times.  He lost count of the drinks pretty quickly after that, so he wasn’t quite able to pinpoint when his pleasant buzz morphed into full-out intoxication.  At one point, he only made it about two steps out from the couch before falling, but was dimly aware of Kuroo lifting him up. He leaned into his touch as Kuroo dragged him towards the kitchen, muttering something about “fucking lightweights” and “never would’ve guessed, with those thighs and all.”  Finally, they reached the counter, and Kuroo let go of him, but quickly caught him and propped him up before he could crumple to the floor.

“I would like an alcohol,” Daichi announced solemnly.

Akaashi gave him an amused look, opening his mouth to speak. Kuroo interrupted him, turning to Daichi. “How many alcohol?”

Daichi frowned, mulling it over carefully. “Just fuck me up,” he finally decided.

 

* * *

 

Kuroo, Daichi quickly learned, was _awesome_.  His hair was funny, his jokes were great, his lips were nice and soft—he was the whole package.  With a drink in hand and Kuroo at his side, Daichi was actually enjoying himself.

“I’mma shove this beer bottle up my ass,” Daichi proclaimed at one point.  Kuroo snorted.

“I’ll shove this entire couch up my ass.”

Daichi frowned at him, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“Would that even fit?”

Kuroo laughed, but didn’t answer. Daichi decided that this was not satisfactory. He needed to _know_.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Kuroo asked, and Daichi froze, fingers hovering over the waistband of Kuroo’s jeans.

“Just, uh, checking something.”

“In my pants?”

“Yeah, uh, I think I left something in there.” He slipped his hand in, fumbling around, looking for it (whatever _it_  was; he couldn’t quite remember).

“My boner?” Kuroo suggested, and Daichi nodded solemnly.

“Hey, wait, Kuroo. Are you a good kisser?”

Kuroo looked at him, his eyes narrowed, and Daichi slowly removed his hand from Kuroo’s pants, feeling his cheeks heat up. Kuroo grinned.

“I dunno. Wanna find out?”

Daichi giggled a little, leaning in expectantly. Kuroo paused for a moment, before swiftly pressing his mouth against Daichi’s.  His lips were _g_ _reat_ , even if they did taste like that shitty vodka; they were hot and wet and really, really nice. Suddenly, Daichi broke away, remembering something.

“What? Not good enough?” Kuroo asked. Daichi shook his head.

“I’m not—um, wait, never mind,” Daichi trailed off. He knew there was something, he had felt _something_  for a second, something that said this was wrong, but he couldn’t remember what.  “It’s fine.”

Kuroo pressed him into another sloppy kiss. Daichi opened his mouth instinctively, tilting his head and wrapping his hands around Kuroo’s neck to hold himself steady as Kuroo’s tongue flicked inside.  Kuroo slipped his hands down Daichi’s back and curled them around Daichi’s ass, and Daichi groaned into Kuroo’s touch, Kuroo’s tongue scraping against the roof of his mouth. It was wet and messy and amazing and _fuck_ , this boner was really inconvenient.

Kuroo pulled away. “Jeez, Daichi, I didn’t realize you were _this_ thirsty.”

Daichi shrugged, looking down at the bulge in his pants and then at Kuroo’s.  “Looks like you are too,” he said. “‘M not surprised though.”

“Hmm?” Kuroo asked, his hands drifting back down to Daichi’s ass.

“You’re thirstier than Niagara Falls, Kuroo. We all knew that.”

Kuroo frowned. “That makes no sense.” He gave Daichi’s ass a quick squeeze, and Daichi whined, but didn’t make any move to stop him. “Niagara Falls can’t be thirsty.”

“It can’t?”

“It’s a fucking waterfall. It’s made of water.”

“Oh.” Daichi was suddenly aware of the lack of attention his steadily-growing boner was receiving, and of the fact that Kuroo’s lips were nowhere near his own. He decided to remedy that, crushing his lips against Kuroo’s while hurriedly palming at his own erection through the fabric of his slacks. Kuroo made a _tsk_ noise, and swatted Daichi’s hands away.

“Let me,” he hissed, slipping his hand into Daichi’s pants and briefly fumbling at the waistband of his underwear before managing to get his fingers inside and around Daichi’s dick.

“F-fuck,” Daichi breathed, mouthing at Kuroo’s face as he tried to do the same despite his impaired hand-eye coordination. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, and his efforts earned a moan from Kuroo.

“G–Daichi, that’s–” Kuroo stammered, stroking Daichi’s dick as he bit moans and whimpers into his neck and jaw.  Daichi knew he was a mess, drunk and horny and babbling as Kuroo jacked him off and he attempted to return the favor, made difficult by the fog in his brain and the hot arousal curling in his belly with every movement of Kuroo’s hand. It wasn’t long before Daichi felt his balls tighten and his body reach its climax, and his vision blurred as he came. Kuroo came moments later, sinking his teeth into Daichi’s skin and loosening his grip on Daichi’s dick. Panting, they both untangled themselves, removing their cum-streaked hands from the other’s pants and staring, flushed and breathless, into each other’s eyes.

“Th-that was–” Daichi managed to choke out. Kuroo winked.

“Not bad,” he smirked. “I can do more, though. Wanna see?”

Daichi looked down into his lap, at the faint dark stain spreading across the fabric of his slacks.  That _had_ felt nice, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d received that kind of attention. It was weird, actually, how neglected he was.  He couldn’t figure out why. At any rate, it wouldn’t take long for him to get it up again.

“Sure, but, uh, isn’t it a little...you know…”

Kuroo shrugged. “Hey, why don’t we head over to my place?”

He stood up, and Daichi shakily followed, feeling a powerful rush of dizziness like a blow to his head.  He gripped onto Kuroo’s shoulder as he swayed in place, his vision blurring.  The last thing he remembered before his mind blurred beyond recognition was Kuroo’s warm body against his, leading him out of the apartment and back in the direction of the university dorms.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Daichi noticed when he woke up the next day was his pounding headache. The second thing he noticed was that he was not, as he had first assumed, in his own apartment, and the third thing was the pair of large, catlike amber eyes staring down at him.  He let out a scream, instantly regretting it as the throbbing in his head increased hundredfold and the owner of the eyes yelped and fell off the bed. Daichi sat up.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking guiltily down at Kenma, who had curled themself into the fetal position on the floor and was whimpering quietly. “But, uh, why are you here?”

“They live with me, dumbass!” came a shout as the dorm room door slammed closed and Kuroo sauntered in, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Daichi groaned and rubbed his head.

“Uh..could you talk a little quieter...I, uh…”

Kuroo laughed loudly, clearly amused at Daichi’s discomfort. “Hangovers are a bitch, huh?” He proceeded to untie the towel from his waist and fling it at the far wall, his sodden hair spraying droplets of water in all directions as he did so. Daichi’s first instinct was to shield Kenma’s eyes from the sight of Kuroo's nude body, but the kid seemed completely unfazed as they stood up, dusted themself off and plodded over to the desk.  

“Um...Kuroo?” Daichi asked. “Would you mind, you know...not stripping?”

“What, does my dick make you uncomfortable?” Kuroo snorted, gesturing down at his naked body. “That’s funny, you know, coming from the guy who had it up his ass less than twelve hours ago!”

“I– _fuck_.” It was all coming back to Daichi now. Why he was here, why he was hungover, why his rear end was so sore— _Suga_ , was the only thought his panicked brain was able to string together. _Suga’s gonna murder me_.

“Hey, Daichi, calm down. It was fun,” Kuroo bent over him, pressing his hands lightly against Daichi’s chest in an attempt to soothe his panicked breathing, but Daichi growled and slapped him away, suddenly furious.

“You let me cheat on Suga?” he roared. “Kuroo, it was _not_  fun—well, I don’t really remember it, but that’s beside the point—you _knew_  how drunk I was and you took advantage of me!”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Hey hey hey, let’s not be like that. You were perfectly willing. I was just doing what you wanted me to do.”

“I was drunk out of my _mind_ , Kuroo!  That by definition means I couldn't give consent!  Now give me my clothes, so I can go home and sort this out with my datemate!”

Kenma, who had pulled the hood of their sweatshirt over their face and was sitting at the desk hunched over their DS, let out a tiny squeal at Daichi’s yelling, but they stood up and slowly picked Daichi’s crumpled suit off the floor by their feet and handed it to Kuroo.  Kuroo gave them a little pat on the head and dropped the clothes in Daichi’s lap.

“Suga’s gone, remember?” Kuroo said quietly, his voice even. Daichi groaned loudly, burying his head in his hands and digging his fingers into his scalp.

“Fuck. Okay. Well, uh. I’m still pretty fucking pissed, Kuroo. I hope you realize that.  I know you were drunk too, but it’s still no excuse. You shouldn’t have done what you did, and you shouldn’t have encouraged me to do what I did.”

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry.” Kuroo’s voice was barely audible, but Daichi lifted his head at the words. Kuroo actually sounded guilty, and his dark eyes were round and apologetic.  Daichi sighed heavily, as he slipped his shirt back on over his sweaty body.

“Um, was Kenma in here the whole night?” he asked finally.  “Like, did they, uh, did they watch us?”

Kuroo shook his head. “Nah, I texted them to spend the night with Hinata. They came back here around noon.”

Daichi froze. He started fumbling around, looking for his cell phone; Kuroo handed it to him, and he turned it on. 2:18PM, the screen read. _Damnit_ , he thought, rubbing his throbbing head and attempting to button his shirt with shaking fingers.  He’d slept practically all day. If Suga had been around, they’d be growing sick with worry by now.

Groaning softly, Daichi slowly finished dressing, and spent what felt like an eternity trying to tie his shoes. Finally, he had them both knotted and as close to tied as he was going to get, and he turned to Kuroo, who had been watching the whole process with a faint smile on his face.

“I-I’m gonna leave now,” Daichi said matter-of-factly, trying to keep his voice even. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this. And don’t let Kenma tell, either.”

“I won’t,” Kenma piped up softly, lifting their head from their DS to stare at Daichi with curious amber eyes.

“Thanks,” Daichi huffed, as he shot Kuroo one last seething glare and pushed his way through the messy dorm room and out the door.

 

* * *

 

As break dragged on, Daichi’s mounting dread steadily increased, consuming all of his energy.  It didn’t help that he had absolutely nothing to do, although he did find ways to occupy himself.  He took the train back home to visit his parents for a few days, spent some time walking around his hometown and listening to his parents’ long-winded explanation of everything he’d missed since the last time he visited, and for the most part, successfully played the part of a happy son free of inner turmoil and paralyzing fear.  His mother had asked him about Suga at one point, and that had almost broken his walls down, but he managed to quickly recover, truthfully telling her that he hadn’t talked to them recently but he was sure they were doing just fine.

His apartment felt eerily empty without Suga there, to the point where it started to mess with his head. He tried to spend as little time at home as possible, because whenever he was home, his mind got stuck on a loop of anxiety as he played out every possible reaction Suga could have to finding out what he did.  His fears began to take a turn to the irrational, as he began to worry about Suga somehow finding out over break and not coming home, Suga breaking up with him and leaving him homeless, Suga _not_  breaking up with him but refusing to talk to him for the remaining two years of college—

Daichi still didn’t even know why their trip back home had been extended to the entire break. What if there had been an emergency, and when Suga came back in the end of August they’d be so distraught that they lost all capacity to react in a rational manner to Daichi’s bad news?  What if Suga, still upset over his parents’ hospitalization or death or whatever it was, lashed out at Daichi, tried to hurt him, or worse, tried to hurt themself?  

“Stop it,” he had to say out loud to himself on one of these evenings when he couldn’t escape from his racing thoughts. “Daichi, get a hold of yourself. You’re starting to sound like Asahi.”   _That’s it!_  He could talk to Asahi! She’d probably know what to do. He leapt to his feet and grabbed his phone from the table, quickly dialing her number.

“Um, hello?”  Hearing her voice, slightly tinny and muffled, immediately helped bring Daichi down to reality.

“Oh hey, Asahi. It’s Daichi.”

“Yeah. Uh...hi?”

What was he _t_ _hinking?_ He couldn’t do this over the phone. Before he had a chance to second-guess himself, he quickly said, “I was wondering if you’re free any day this week. Like, for lunch or something.”

“Oh, um. I-I’m not sure. I mean, I’m working at the camp every day this week, so….”

She trailed off. Daichi’s heart sank. “Ah, okay, that’s alright. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Wait, actually, um. Friday is a half-day, so I might be able to, but, uh...I’m not really sure what time I’d be available.”

Daichi tried to keep his tone cheerful. “Ahh, alright. Well, I’m free all day, so you can always just call or text me when you find out?”

“Oh, okay. Um..where should we meet up?”

Daichi thought for a moment. “Hmm..I’m not sure. Maybe I can meet you at the camp and we can find a place nearby?”

“Uh, sure. That works. Well, um, see you then. I guess.”

Daichi smiled as he said goodbye and hung up the phone. Maybe tonight he’d be able to sleep a little easier, knowing he was at least taking steps to solve the nasty problem he’d gotten himself into.

 

* * *

 

Friday came along, and Daichi dressed and ate breakfast with a spring in his step, something he hadn’t felt at all since break had started. He wasn’t entirely sure of how talking to Asahi would actually help solve his problem, but he was confident that it would work itself out.  He checked his phone, seeing that Asahi had texted him to say he could meet her at noon, and passed the time tidying the apartment a little.  Finally, he set out.

Asahi’s job was at a summer camp for kids, which Daichi and Suga had agreed would be good for her, providing she didn’t accidentally scare the children too badly.  The camp was in a large park a short train ride away from Daichi’s apartment, and as Daichi approached the entrance, Asahi untangled herself from the swarm of kids and came over to him.  

“Hi, Daichi!” she said brightly.

“Hey. Am I too early?”

Asahi laughed, bending down to scoop up the tiny boy who was tugging on her pant leg and hoist him onto her shoulders.  The kid waved at Daichi, and he smiled back.

“Nah, you’re fine. We’re just cleaning up. Hey, Hideki-kun, stop throwing paint at your sister!”

The boy in question was running in circles around Asahi and Daichi, chasing a little girl with blue paint splattered all over her hair and shirt.  He stopped running when he heard Asahi’s shout, staring guiltily up at her with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Tell her you’re sorry, Hideki,” Asahi said firmly, returning her focus back to Daichi.  “It’ll only be a couple minutes. Well, as long as these little rascals do as they’re told.”

Daichi smiled. “They don’t seem to be too scared of you, at least.”

Asahi laughed. “You’re so mean, Daichi. But no, they all love me. It’s really great, actually. They’re good kids.”

“You seem happy here,” Daichi remarked. It was true: she didn’t seem at all nervous, and her smile was genuine.

“I am. It’s a fun job. Alright, Ryuu,” she said to the boy on her shoulders. “I gotta put you down now.”

“No!” Ryuu pouted, giggling as she gave an exaggerated grunt and set him down on the ground.  She smiled fondly as he ran off towards the crafts table.  

“Do you need any help?” Daichi offered, but Asahi shook her head.

“Nah, I think I’ve got it under control. Thanks, though.” She turned to face the group of kids, clapping her hands for attention. They all froze in place, looking up at her as she began to delegate cleanup tasks.  Daichi watched in amusement as the kids, who all seemed to be in the range of four to eight or nine, skipped around as they tidied up, talking and laughing and singing.  

Asahi had been accurate in her prediction: no more than five minutes had passed by the time everyone had finished and moved to stand in a line while they waited for their parents to pick them up.  Daichi momentarily forgot his stress as he watched the proceedings.  Asahi was right; the kids _loved_ her, and it was actually kind of adorable to watch.  One girl, upon seeing her mother approach the entrance to the park, ran over to Asahi and attached her tiny body to Asahi’s legs.  Her mother apologized as she dragged the girl away, but Asahi gave a genuine smile as she said how good Emiko-chan had been today.

“Bye-bye, Azumane-san!” Emiko called as her mom led her out of the park. Asahi waved, beaming from ear to ear as more and more kids left.  Finally, everyone was gone, and Asahi picked up her bag from behind the craft table and slung it over her shoulder, turning back to Daichi.

“Well, uh. Looks like that’s everyone.”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah. So, where should we go for lunch?”

Asahi shrugged. “I think there’s a café nearby that’s supposed to be pretty good. It shouldn’t be a very long walk.”

“Sounds good to me,” Daichi agreed, and Asahi waved goodbye to her co-workers as the two set off.  They didn’t talk much as they walked, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Daichi was still trying to keep his predicament out of his thoughts for now, though he knew he’d have to think about it eventually. That was, after all, why he’d arranged to meet up with Asahi today.  

They arrived at the café and sat down at a table in the back, quietly perusing the menus the waitress handed them.

“So,” Daichi finally said, attempting to make conversation. “Have you been doing anything else over break? Or have you just been working the whole time?”

Asahi shrugged. “Well, I mean, I’ve been mostly working, but uh...I’ve been, well, I’ve been seeing...some people.”

She was blushing, Daichi noticed. “What people?”

Asahi coughed nervously. “Oh, well, just, uh...you know Nishinoya, right? From the LGBT club?”  Her blush deepened.

“Yeah, I know him. You two have been hanging out?”

Asahi rubbed the back of her neck. “Um, well, kinda. We, uh, we’re dating now.”

Daichi’s eyes widened, but he smiled warmly. “Asahi, that’s amazing! Congratulations! How long?”

“He asked me out right before finals started, actually.”

“That’s really great, Asahi. I’m happy for you.”  He really was, at least right now, when he was still pushing his feelings aside.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Yeah, I really like him. Like, a lot. He makes me really happy, and, like, I can tell he really likes me too.”

Daichi laughed. “I sure hope he does.”

She smiled. “Well, yeah, but like...I dunno. It’s nice, to not have to worry about what he thinks of me. He always tells me I’m beautiful, and how much he loves me, and, well...I always worry too much, but he knows that about me, I guess? So he tries to make it so that I don’t have to worry. It-it’s hard to explain.”

Daichi nodded. “No, I get what you’re saying. That’s important in a relationship, knowing where you stand.”  

His voice wavered a little on those last words, as the irony of the situation hit him full force, but Asahi didn’t seem to notice. She gave a small, happy sigh. “Yeah, it’s...nice. Noya’s really sweet. I know he doesn’t seem like that at first, but he is.”

“I can see that,” Daichi replied.  “He’s really different from you, though, but maybe that’s a good thing. Opposites attract, and all.”  He gave a weak smile, and Asahi nodded eagerly.  A few moments later, the waitress returned, and they ordered their lunches. After she’d left, Daichi spoke.

“So, I see you shaved the beard?”

Asahi laughed, rubbing her now-smooth chin. “Yeah. I figured it would be better for work and all, so that the kids would be less scared of me. Noya was really sad, though.  He wanted to hold a funeral for it, but I told him I already washed the hair down the drain, and he almost started crying.”

Daichi couldn’t help but laugh at the image.  “Well,” he said. “It was for a good cause. The kids love you.”

“Yeah.”  

They fell silent after that. A few minutes passed, and the waitress came back with their food. They eagerly dug in, not speaking as they savored their lunches.  The lull in conversation, Daichi quickly discovered, made it difficult to keep his anxious thoughts at bay, and his mind was racing to formulate a way to bring up his situation to Asahi.  Finally, Asahi was the one to speak.

“So, how’s Suga?”

Daichi froze.  He knew it was going to come up eventually—this was, after all, why he’d wanted to see Asahi in the first place—but now that she’d mentioned it, he was having second thoughts. He didn’t want to worry her, subject her to the torment that he’d put himself through for weeks, because she _would_  worry, there was no doubt about that.

“Daichi?” Asahi asked quietly. “Is everything alright?”

Daichi sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

Asahi looked at him worriedly. “Did something happen between the two of you? Did you guys get in a fight?”

Daichi shook his head. “No, not really…” He might as well spit it out. “But, uh. I kind of fucked up. Big-time.”

Asahi’s eyes widened, but her voice was even when she said, “What do you mean?”

Daichi groaned softly, and when he spoke, his words tumbled out all at once. “Well, uh...I was at a party, and, well, I guess I had a little too much to drink. A lot too much to drink. _Asahi, I fucked Kuroo Tetsurou_.”

Daichi instantly regretted it as Asahi’s jaw dropped, and her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head.  He could see the panic already forming on her face, and he quickly tried to mend the situation.

“Asahi, I’m sorry–please don’t freak out, it’s going to be okay–it’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry—”

He trailed off, seeing as it was no use. On impulse, he reached across the table and placed his hand lightly over hers, waiting for her to slow her breathing. Finally, she calmed herself enough to speak.

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine,” Daichi replied, giving her hand a light squeeze. “I shouldn’t have done what I did in the first place. W-with Kuroo, I mean.”

He slowly brought his hands into his lap, staring at his empty plate in front of him. He was suddenly hit with a wave of shame, and he found it difficult to look Asahi in the eye.  Asahi sighed.

“Daichi, you’re not a bad person. You just made a mistake. Have you talked to Suga?”

Daichi slowly looked up at her. “Not yet.”

“Were you planning on it?”

“Um, y-yeah, I was just, uh…”

Asahi’s eyes narrowed. “Talk to them as soon as you can,” she said sternly. Daichi was a little taken aback at her resolve, at the steady conviction in her voice.

“Yeah, uh, they’re coming back at the end of break, so...I thought it would be better to tell them in person.”

“Okay,” Asahi said finally, mulling it over. “But you need to tell them. Be honest with them. If you don’t want to hurt them any more than you already have, you need to be honest.”

“O-okay. Yeah.” Daichi felt a little embarrassed, like he was a small child being lectured by his mother.  But Asahi was right, he knew that much, and she had every right to be lecturing him for this.

“If you handle this the right way, it won’t ruin your relationship. But please, Daichi, do the right thing. You and Suga are my best friends, and I don’t want either of you to be hurt.”

Daichi nodded, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. Thanks, Asahi.”

Asahi smiled weakly. “No problem.”

They didn’t talk much after that. The waitress came with the bill, and Daichi insisted on paying.  As they were walking out, Daichi turned to her.

“Thanks again for this. I owe you one.”

Asahi smiled. “It’s fine. I mean, you’re usually the one telling _me_  what to do.”

“No, seriously. If there’s anything that comes up, anything that happens between you and Noya, which I hope it won’t, but if something does…”

“Of course,” Asahi said. “That’s what friends do, right?”

 

* * *

 

It was a Friday evening, the last Friday of summer break, when Daichi heard the key turn in the door. He jumped to his feet, a grin spreading on his face as Suga entered the apartment. They looked tired, weighed down by heavy luggage and exhausted from hours of travel, but their face lit up when they saw Daichi.

“Hey!” they exclaimed, dropping their luggage by the door and running over to wrap Daichi in a tight hug.

“Hey, Suga,” Daichi said quietly, burying his face in Suga’s soft hair and letting himself go limp in their touch.  Suga wrapped their arms around Daichi’s neck, pressing kisses to his face, his forehead, his lips, drinking him in. Daichi felt lighter than he’d been all month, and the warmth of his datemate’s body made him momentarily forget all of his stress. He ran his fingers through Suga’s hair and kissed them back, trying to take in every detail of the face he’d missed so much. Finally, they let go of each other and made their way to the couch. Suga was the first to collapse down on it, and Daichi fell on top of them. Suga laughed softly, wrapping their arms around Daichi’s waist.

“I missed you,” Daichi finally said, breathing the words into Suga’s skin.

“I missed you too,” Suga replied.

“How was your trip?”

“Ah, it was alright. Every time I thought my family was finally done with me, another relative came home, and of course I had to visit with them too. It was nice, though, even if they all can get overbearing.”

“Mmm,” Daichi hummed. He knew he was going have to bring _it_  up, but he wanted to delay it for as long as possible.  He buried his face in Suga’s shirt, feeling Suga’s fingers running through his hair.

Finally, Suga untangled themself from Daichi and stood up. “Alright, this is fun and all but I really need a shower. Sorry.”

“Okay,” Daichi grumbled, pushing himself standing and watching as Suga plodded into the bathroom.

When Suga came out of the shower, Daichi was already in the bedroom, stretched out across the bed. Suga chuckled, unzipping their suitcase and pulling out a pair of pajamas. They slowly dressed, and went over to the bed, laying down next to Daichi.

Daichi looked at them out of the corner of his eye, at their lanky body, the gentle rise and fall of their chest, the fluttering of their eyelashes and the droplets of water dripping from their hair.  Might as well get the hard part out of the way, he thought. He took a deep breath.

“Hey Suga, there’s, um, something I need to tell you.”

Suga turned their head to face him.  Their expression was tranquil, but their brows were furrowed, as if they sensed something in Daichi’s tone.  “What is it?”

Daichi sighed, taking a moment to compose himself. “Remember that party I went to, on the night after you left?”

Suga nodded slowly. God, that party felt so long ago.  

“Well, uh. I wasn’t originally planning on having anything to drink, but, well…”

He trailed off, trying to find the right words. Suga looked at him, their soft eyes gently willing him to continue. Daichi sighed.

“What happened?” Suga asked quietly. Daichi bit his lip, looking away from them, up at the dark ceiling.  Finally, he began to speak.

He told them everything, from the moment he saw Kuroo at the party to waking up the next afternoon in Kuroo’s bed. By the end, his voice had begun to waver, the lump in his throat had risen, and he had to choke out the last words. When he finished, he couldn’t bring himself to look Suga in the eye, instead staring intently at the ceiling.  Suga was silent for a few minutes, and Daichi impatiently waited for the inevitable.  It never came, and finally, Daichi couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you waiting for?” he hissed, hating the venom in his voice but powerless to hold it back. “Do it now, if you’re gonna yell at me, or break up with me, or–or—”

He broke off, his chest heaving, hot tears springing to his eyes. Anger was the last thing he wanted to feel right now, especially at Suga. _He_  was the one who fucked up, _he_  was the only one who deserved to be hurt in this situation.  And God, did he deserve it.  

He froze when he felt Suga’s hand on his shoulder.

“Daichi,” they said softly. “Daichi, it’s okay. I’m not going to break up with you.”

Daichi didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t _want_  Suga to be so nice to him—he _h_ _urt_  them; it was only fair that he should pay the price for that, why didn’t they understand? He wanted to wrench Suga’s hand away, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, could only stare at the ceiling and try to keep the tears at bay.

“Daichi.” Another hand on his other shoulder. “Daichi, breathe.”

Daichi slowly pushed himself sitting, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.  Suga turned to him, their hands on his shoulders, their legs folded under them.  

“It’s okay, Daichi,” they whispered. Slowly, Daichi brought his eyes down to meet Suga’s gaze.  “I’m not mad at you. You made a mistake, but you feel bad about it, and honestly, that’s what’s important to me. You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t feel bad.”

Daichi made a choked noise in his throat as the tears finally spilled over, and Suga wrapped their arms around him, pulling him tightly to their chest.  Daichi couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, let alone this much; he couldn’t quite form words or even coherent thoughts as he lay limp and shaking in Suga’s arms.  Their hands rubbed soothing circles on his back as their lips brushed against the top of his head, whispering kisses into his hair.  

Finally, his eyes dried up, and he sighed heavily, still motionless against Suga’s body.  “I’m so sorry,” he managed to say.

“It’s okay,” Suga breathed, and Daichi slowly untangled himself from their grip, suddenly remembering something.

“I-I’m not actually sexually frustrated or anything,” he said quietly, as the conversation he’d had with them in that café last month played out in his mind. “I promise. I just made a mistake, I’m still perfectly happy in our relationship—”

“I know,” Suga replied. “This conversation would’ve been a lot different if you weren’t.  But, you know, you can date me and still have casual sex on the side, if you want.  I’m not going to stop you from doing that. Actually, I’m completely okay with it, as long as you communicate. Would you want to do that?”

Daichi paused, considering. The idea of casual sex had, surprisingly, never crossed his mind. He had always assumed that being in a committed relationship with someone didn’t really leave room for things like that.  But if Suga was okay with it…

“Maybe. I’m not sure, I haven’t really thought about it.”

Suga smiled at him. “You know, I bet Kuroo would love to hook up with you again. Well, in different circumstances than last time, obviously.”

“Really?”

Suga chuckled. “Daichi, he’s been thirsting after you since the day he met you. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

Suga laughed loudly, and Daichi found himself laughing too.  “So, what do you say?” Suga asked, smiling. “You gonna do it?”

Daichi shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll think about it. But, uh, thank you, Suga. For everything. You’re the best.”

Suga smiled broadly. “I love you too, Daichi,” they said, genuinely, and pulled him in for a long kiss.

As Daichi lay in bed that night, his body curled around Suga’s, his mind finally at ease, his last thought before drifting into sleep was that despite all that had happened, the fact that he could call Suga his datemate made him the luckiest guy in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got extremely long whoops  
> Aaaaaaand, that's it for Daisuga! Next up will be Asanoya, so stay tuned!


	5. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing Asahi and Noya are prepared to be there for each other, because they're both going to need to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the long wait. I was super busy with APs, finals, and graduation in May, and then I had really bad writers' block for all of June, which is a really lame excuse I know, but still. Hopefully this will be the longest I'll go between updates, but thanks so much for sticking it out!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: homophobic and transphobic slurs; misgendering; mentions of alcohol; descriptions of transphobia, homophobia, and parental abuse; mentions of suicide/suicide attempts.

On September 1st, in the late afternoon, Asahi and Nishinoya made their way together down the familiar path across campus to the club room. Although classes had started back up in the end of August, Iwaizumi and Oikawa had waited a few weeks to schedule the next meeting of the LGBT club, figuring that everyone would be busy at the very start of the term. Noya and Asahi walked side by side, sweating a little in the late summer heat, pausing to let Tanaka run to catch up to them.

When they got to the club room, Asahi’s eyes widened in surprise. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had decorated the previously-bare room with posters, pride flags, and a large whiteboard on the back wall. They had replaced the old beat-up rug with a new, larger one, and while the couch still remained, the room was now furnished with an assortment of bean bag chairs, pillows, and cushions. The atmosphere felt somehow warmer now, more friendly and cozy.

Oikawa waved at them from the other side of the room, while Iwaizumi stood up and made his way towards the door.  Noya grinned, loudly proclaiming that he loved what they’d done with the place, while Tanaka threw himself onto the nearest bean bag chair. Asahi nodded, quietly agreeing that the transgender pride flag was a nice touch, and Noya grabbed her hand, beaming up at her as he swung their arms back and forth. Iwaizumi smiled warmly at them.

A few minutes later, when everyone had arrived, Iwaizumi signaled for the meeting to start.

“So,” he said cheerfully, when everyone had brought their cushions to the edge of the rug. “How was everyone’s break?”

The room broke out in quiet murmurs, and Asahi marveled at how comfortable the atmosphere was now; all of their awkwardness around each other had disappeared in just a few short months.

“Anyone do anything interesting they want to talk about?”

Kuroo slowly raised his hand. “Actually, I have something I need to tell all of you.”

“You’re banging my boyfriend?” Suga asked, a cheeky grin on their face.  Everyone laughed. Asahi cast a nervous glance over at Daichi, but he was smiling.

“Well, yeah, I am,” Kuroo said, a bit sheepishly.  “But, more importantly, I’ve been thinking a lot recently. Like, about myself. And, well, I realized the other day that I think I might not be cis.”

Tanaka was the first to clap. Noya quickly joined in, and within a few moments the whole room had erupted in applause. Oikawa whistled, and Kuroo grinned at him.  As everyone quieted, Kenma muttered, a bit too loudly, that “it’s about fucking time,” and Kuroo’s face flushed.  

“Thanks, guys,” Kuroo said finally, a faded grin on his reddened face. “I, uh, I’m not really sure what I identify as yet, but I’m pretty sure I’m not a cis guy.”

Iwaizumi smiled at him.  “Well, we appreciate you telling us, and I’m glad we were able to make you feel comfortable enough to share this discovery.”

Oikawa grinned impishly.  “I’m still waiting for the day you’ll discover a hairbrush,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough that he clearly intended for the others to hear. This prompted a chorus of laughter from the group until Iwaizumi punched the back of his head, while Kuroo felt his hair in confusion, trying to figure out what was wrong with it today.

“We’re trying to be _supportive_ , Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. Oikawa opened his mouth to speak–or whine, most likely–but Iwaizumi cut him off by clearing his throat loudly.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten _that_  out of the way—” He broke off, flashing a glare at his grinning boyfriend. “Let’s get on with the meeting. Has anyone seen the trailer for that new movie coming out at the end of the month, the one about the trans girl?”

A few nods, some muttering.  Iwaizumi stood up to retrieve a laptop from his bag, while Oikawa whipped his phone out of his pocket and the others made small talk. A few minutes later, and Iwaizumi had hooked the laptop up to the TV to play the trailer. The room fell silent, and the video began.

 

* * *

As the weeks passed, Asahi found herself spending more and more time with Nishinoya. She didn’t neglect her other friends, by any means, but she had discovered early on in their relationship that being with Noya made her feel different than she did when she was with Daichi and Suga. Noya made her feel special, made her feel loved, in a way that no one else could.  His upbeat personality, even if it could be overbearing at times, never failed to cheer her up, and he had an uncanny ability to notice when Asahi was feeling down even before she was even fully aware of it.

The two had stopped going on official “dates” after the first month, instead choosing to spend time together at every possible moment, even if it was only to eat lunch together in the dining hall, or cuddle while they were studying.  One day, during one of the latter instances, the two were sprawled on Asahi’s bed, while Noya pretended to look at his physics textbook and Asahi attempted to read about 17th century playwrights. This proved to be rather difficult, given that her tiny and enthusiastic boyfriend was trying, and succeeding, to distract her by kissing every exposed inch of her skin. Suddenly, Noya broke away from where he was mouthing at the crook of her elbow to roll over onto his stomach and slam his textbook closed, startling Asahi.

“What was that for?” Asahi asked. Noya just laughed, burrowing closer into Asahi’s side.

“Hey, guess what tomorrow is?”

Asahi pushed herself sitting. She frowned, considering.  “Uh...the day you let me actually do my homework for once?”

Noya grinned. “Pft, no. It’s our two-month anniversary!”

Asahi blinked at him. “...Oh.” She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. Noya chuckled, clapping her on the back and leaning his head on her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember.”

Asahi nodded slowly. “Oh, um, okay. Yeah, uh...did you want to do something for it?”

Noya shrugged, absentmindedly twirling his fingers through the loose strands of her hair.  “I dunno, that’s why I brought it up.  I mean, we don’t have to do anything huge if you don’t want to–two months isn’t exactly a huge milestone or anything, but, well, I thought it might be kinda nice.”

Asahi nodded, mulling it over. She didn’t know what he’d had in mind, so it was hard to say— _shit_. She suddenly remembered something that Daichi and Suga had mentioned earlier that week. Her shoulders sagged a little when she spoke.

“Um...I think Suga and Daichi had planned to go out to karaoke with me tomorrow night, actually...I’m sorry, Noya, I shouldn’t have agreed to go with them–I can just cancel or something, I’m not a huge karaoke person anyway—”

Noya placed a hand gently on her back. “Asahi, it’s okay. You don’t need to cancel your plans; it’s fine. We can do something another night, or maybe Suga and Daichi would be okay with me coming along?”

Asahi nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah, I can ask them.”

Noya grinned at her, wrapping his arms around her neck and leaning in. Asahi closed the distance between their mouths and let her eyes flutter shut as Noya took control of the kiss, pressing her back on the bed.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and held his warm body close to hers, grateful as always to have him here with her.

* * *

 

The karaoke bar was crowded, unsurprisingly, as it was a Saturday night.  Being surrounded by so many loud, drunk people was a bit overwhelming for Asahi, but she had Noya there, had his warm hands to squeeze hers. None of the four drank, but it soon became clear that they could still act dumb _without_  the influence of alcohol.  Noya was particularly enthusiastic about the singing, and it was fun to watch, even if his voice was horrendously off-key.  Suga, on the other hand, had a voice like an angel, and Daichi seemed unable to keep his eyes off of them. As the night wore on, his gaze grew hungrier, his eyes drinking his datemate in while they sang and his hands seemingly glued to their body when they sat.  Noya, on the other hand, kept his contact with Asahi light and comfortable, all gentle hand squeezes and intertwined fingers and loving glances.  

At one point in the middle of their allotted time, Suga had just finished a slow song composed mostly of high notes, all of which they’d hit perfectly, and as they sat back down next to Daichi, he immediately pulled them into a kiss.

“Whoa, get a room!” Noya objected, but he was grinning. Daichi and Suga were oblivious, as Suga weaved their fingers in Daichi’s hair, one of Daichi’s arms wrapped around their waist. Daichi slowly broke away.

“Holy shit, Suga,” he said. “Since when have you been able to sing like that?”

Suga shrugged, their face a little flushed. “I dunno?”

Daichi laughed. “God, your voice is beautiful.”

Asahi smiled as she watched them. Noya turned to her.

“It’s your turn, Asahi,” he said brightly. Asahi shook her head.

“I-I don’t really–”

“Aw, c’mon, Asahi!” Daichi urged. “What, you scared? You were singing just fine earlier.”

Asahi shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck and staring down at her lap. “I…”  She trailed off. Noya grinned, clapping her on the back.

“How about we sing one together?”

 

* * *

 

As the night dragged on, Asahi tried to enjoy herself, made more difficult by the overwhelmingly loud atmosphere of the crowded bar and Daichi’s persistent teasing.  Finally, their time had expired, and they left the bar together.  

“That was fun,” Suga proclaimed.

“We should do that more often,” Daichi agreed, grinning at them.

“U-uh, yeah,” Asahi stammered. Daichi turned to her.

“You didn’t like it?”

“Well, it’s not exactly what I do for fun usually,” Asahi replied, suddenly defensive.

Daichi laughed. “Well yeah, but you’re antisocial.”

Asahi felt her cheeks heat up a little. “You’re so mean, Daichi,” she muttered, staring pointedly at the sidewalk.  Suga laughed lightly, and Noya took Asahi’s hand, twining his fingers around hers.  She sighed, and Daichi snickered.

They fell mostly silent after that as they walked. When they were almost at the edge of the busy part of town, Asahi was roused from her thoughts by a loud whistle. All four heads immediately snapped up; a group of guys, seemingly their age or slightly older and clearly drunk out of their minds, was moving in a pack across the street.

“Hey, pretty lady!” they called out, and all the color drained from Asahi’s face as she realized they were addressing her. Noya gripped her hand almost possessively as he tried to steer her away, but to Asahi’s horror, one of the men broke away from the pack and started to make his way towards her.

“What’s a hottie like you doing out so late with these fucking faggots?” he snarled, his eyes shooting daggers at Daichi and Suga.  Daichi reflexively lurched forward, but Suga held him back, while Noya still seemed bent on steering Asahi backwards. As the man got a closer look at Asahi, however, he froze, and laughed, his hoarse voice harsh and discordant.

“Shit, my bad. You looked like a woman from a distance, but I guess you’re just a fag too. Whoops.”

Asahi felt paralyzed, with fear and something else, something she refused to acknowledge. Noya let go of her arm, suddenly, and his whole tiny body seemed to ignite with rage.

“She _is_  a woman,” Noya growled, his voice laced with venom. “Now fuck off!” His fists were clenched; he looked ready to fight.  The other man, however, seemed to have other ideas, as he turned around and headed back over to his group, his sickening laughter echoing in the darkness.

Asahi hadn’t even realized how on-edge she’d been the whole night, but as the drunk men’s voices finally faded she felt tears automatically spring to her eyes. Noya took her hand again as they resumed walking, giving it a tight, reassuring squeeze.  Suga was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said, sincerely, a note of concern in their voice.

“It’s alright,” Asahi muttered, choking a little on the words. “I–yeah. It’s not like I’m surprised.”

Daichi chuckled weakly. “Do you think it was the beard that sold it?”

Asahi caught Suga giving their boyfriend a warning glare, but she found it easier to stare at the ground rather than try to meet anyone’s eyes. “Y-yeah, I should probably shave it…”

Noya dug his nails into her hand. “Hey, Asahi, don’t worry about it. Don’t let that get to you.”

“I like the beard,” Suga offered feebly. Asahi sighed heavily, and the group fell silent once more.

Finally, they reached the edge of campus.  “Alright,” Daichi said. “Well, me and Suga are gonna go home, I guess. See you guys around!”

Suga nodded, taking his hand as they walked back in the direction of their apartment complex. Noya turned to Asahi.

“Hey, you wanna come hang out in my room? Since it’s our anniversary and all, I thought we could do something, and Tanaka’d be there too.”

Asahi frowned. She certainly _liked_  Tanaka, but when he was with Noya the two had a tendency to get rowdy and overbearing, and that was the last thing she wanted right now.

“Um, well...I’m kinda tired, and I was probably just gonna go back to my own room. Not that I don’t like spending time with you, or anything—”

Noya smiled faintly, giving her hand a light squeeze.  “No, that’s okay. It’s been a long night. Hey, is your roommate home?”

Asahi considered the question, watching her breath hang in the night air in little puffs as she tried to remember what her roommate had said to her earlier that afternoon. Finally, she shook her head. “No, she’s spending the weekend with her boyfriend, I think.”

Noya’s smile broadened. “Maybe we could both go to your room, then?” He paused, then continued, quieter. “I just want to help you, and I want you to be happy.”

Asahi felt her cheeks redden a little at the unexpected sweetness of his comment, even if she did feel a rush of shame at how easily he was able to read her emotions (not that she was particularly good at hiding them, of course).  “I-I’m alright, I promise–you don’t need to worry about me, it’s already late—”

“No, I’m coming over,” Noya insisted, brightly, and Asahi saw in his smile that negotiations were over.

When they made it to Asahi’s room in the university’s one upperclassmen dorm building, Asahi immediately collapsed on her bed. Noya flopped down next to her a second later, but Asahi stared up at the ceiling, finding it suddenly difficult to meet his eyes.  The uneasiness that she’d felt earlier—the tension that had peaked when she’d been harassed by the drunk man on the walk home from the karaoke bar—had returned, and she wanted nothing more than to drown everything out and just _sleep_.  

She hadn’t realized how tight her chest felt, or how difficult it was for her to breathe, until Noya placed his hands there suddenly, looking at her with round, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, and she sighed. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling a sudden rush of lightheadedness as she did so. Noya, of course, noticed, and wrapped an arm around her back to steady her.  

“I really need to shave,” was all she could say, her voice barely louder than a whisper.  Noya’s hand moved to rub soothing circles on her back, his free hand lightly touching her cheek.

“Please don’t let that get to you, Asahi,” he replied softly. “Honestly, I think it looks good on you, and you’re so unbelievably brave for doing what you do.”

Asahi just sighed heavily, trying to keep the tears from filling her eyes. “I just–I hate being mistaken for–for—I mean, I thought I could pass better, since I’ve been transitioning for almost four years now, but…” She trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat. Noya suddenly threw his arms around her, wrapping her in a tight hug.  Closing her eyes, she let herself fall back on the bed and he curled himself against her chest, his arms wrapped around her neck.

They lay like that for a few minutes, until the unshed tears were no longer threatening to spill over, and her breathing returned to normal. Finally, she spoke.

“D-do you really think I’m brave, Noya?”

Noya smiled at her. “Yes, I do.”

Asahi found herself smiling back, burying her face in the top of Noya’s hair. She sighed, suddenly.

“I’m sorry for making you do this,” she said quietly, lifting her head. “I mean, this happens so often, and—”

Noya chuckled. “It’s okay. That’s what relationships are for, right? And I know you’ll do the same for me, if I ever...you know.”

He trailed off, and Asahi smiled at him. She knew his words were sincere, but he just seemed so put-together; it was hard to imagine him ever being this vulnerable.  “That probably won’t happen, though,” she laughed. “I mean, you’re just so _perfect_.”

Asahi couldn’t help noticing Noya’s smile falter for a split second, but it quickly returned, as bright as before. “I could say the same for you.”

Asahi started to protest, but, laughing a little, Noya cut her off with a needy kiss. She opened her mouth to his, threading her fingers through his hair and letting her eyes flutter shut.  There was something so perfect about his lips against hers, and she whimpered with need as he dragged his teeth against her bottom lip, tightening his grip on her neck.  He groaned into her mouth as she ground her hips against him, their clothed bodies moving as one as they drank each other in.

Their shared heat and hungry touches, combined with the friction of their writhing bodies, were enough to ignite white-hot arousal coiled in the pit of her stomach.  Noya noticed, and his hands trailed down her stomach to cup the growing bulge in her pants. He stared up at her, cheeks flushed, dark eyes blown with lust, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and she just about melted right there.  “Can I?” he asked softly, and Asahi knew she’d be crazy not to say yes.

* * *

 

In the last week of September, every member of the LGBT club received an email from Iwaizumi with a summary of the movie about the trans girl whose trailer they’d watched at the beginning of the month, as well as a list of possible times the group could go and see it.  They ended up deciding on a Friday evening, around the time that the club normally had their meetings.  In the late afternoon, Asahi and Noya joined the rest of the group in the club room, and together they walked the several blocks to the cinema.

When they arrived at the ticket window, and Iwaizumi asked for fifteen tickets to the four o’clock showing, a couple of people started to pull out their wallets, but Iwaizumi shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, guys. I can use the club budget. And anyway, if that doesn’t work out, I’ll make Oikawa pay.”

“That’s mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cried, clenching his fists and looking ready to fight, but Iwaizumi just growled and grabbed him by the hood of his sweatshirt, dragging him into the theater with the rest of the group.

They briefly stopped at the concession stand, and Kageyama had to drag Hinata away from the candy counter, shouting that “the last thing you need is a sugar high, dumbass” amid Kenma’s loud snickering.  While Kageyama wrestled the smaller boy away, Asahi thought she saw Kenma pick something up off the shelf and slip over to the register, pulling their wallet out of their hoodie pocket, and she smiled a little, making a mental note to sit as far away from Hinata and his friends as possible.  

“Let’s get popcorn!” Tanaka cheered, giving Noya a playful punch on the arm. Asahi reached for her wallet as she headed with them over to the counter, ordering a large bag.

“Thanks, Asahi!” Noya said brightly.

“You’d both better act like adults, though, or I’m not letting you have any,” she warned. “Remember, nineteen-year-olds do not throw popcorn at each other, and they also keep their shirts on the whole time, _Tanaka_.” Tanaka rolled his eyes.

“Yes, mom,” he deadpanned, and Asahi smiled.  

As they made their way into the theater and found seats, Asahi couldn’t help noticing that Noya had fallen unusually silent. She reached for his hand, and he took it, but his grip was loose.  As they sank into their seats, Noya let go of Asahi’s grip, folding his hands in his lap.  Asahi smiled faintly at him, taking a handful of popcorn and chewing slowly as the lights in the theater dimmed and the previews started.

As the movie began, Asahi quickly became engrossed in the story; it was emotional and riveting, paired with a well-composed soundtrack, and the experiences of the characters were surprisingly relatable and accurately-portrayed.  When the protagonist was forcibly outed to her deeply transphobic parents, Asahi noticed Noya stiffen slightly out of the corner of her eye, but she paid no mind at first.  As the movie continued, and the girl’s parents turned abusive, Asahi found it difficult to ignore Noya’s clear discomfort, his stiff shoulders and rigid gaze, the faint tremors in his hand resting on the armrest between them.  She didn’t know what could possibly be causing her boyfriend’s distress, but she figured she’d talk to him later, and gently rested her hand on top of his, intertwining their fingers.  Noya didn’t even turn his head to look at her.

Finally, the movie ended, the credits rolled, and everyone stood to leave. Noya wriggled his hand free of Asahi’s, clenching his fists at his sides as he shakily rose to his feet.  As the group left the theater, no one spoke, not even Tanaka, though the only one who still seemed tense was Noya.  On the walk back to campus, most of the others made idle chatter, though Noya was still uncharacteristically quiet, his hand limp against Asahi’s.  They eventually reached campus and filed into the club room, arranging themselves in a circle around the rug as usual.

“Well,” Iwaizumi said finally.  “Any thoughts on the movie? I thought it was great.”

“I thought your dick was great,” Oikawa replied, his voice a low whine as he clung to Iwaizumi’s arm.  Iwaizumi knocked him away with a shove.

“I don’t _have_  a dick,” he growled, punching the back of Oikawa’s head.

“Why don’t you love me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa whimpered, laying his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, which earned him another smack.

“Anyone else have any thoughts?” Iwaizumi hissed, flashing a hardened glare at his clingy boyfriend.

Tsukishima, surprisingly, raised a hand. Asahi didn’t think she had ever seen the first-year willingly _volunteer_  to speak in a group discussion before.  “I thought it was...emotional. Surprisingly so.”

Yamaguchi smiled warmly at him. “Yeah, we were both tearing up at the end, when–”

She was cut off by a seething “shut up, Yamaguchi” from Tsukishima, and an eruption of loud snickering from Kageyama.

“Oooooh, you were crying, Tsukki?” Kageyama mocked, his tone laced with venom as he purposely used Yamaguchi’s casual nickname.  Kuroo snorted, and Tsukishima’s face reddened.

“H-hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, I wasn’t–” Tsukishima spluttered, desperately trying to backtrack.

“It’s okay, Tsukishima,” Yachi piped up, a bit nervously. “I was getting emotional too, especially in the end–Leelah’s struggles were just so relatable—”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation back on track. “I think we can all relate to at least some aspects of the story. Does anyone want to share a part of the movie that they identified with?”

Asahi looked around. A few people spoke, sharing moments or details or memories from their own lives. Next to her, Noya was silent.

* * *

 

Later that night, after Asahi’s roommate had already fallen asleep, Asahi was sitting on her bed, philosophy textbook open in her lap, when she heard a soft knock on the door.  She immediately jumped to her feet, tossing the textbook to the side, and crossed the room, wondering who it could be at this hour. When she opened the door, she took a step back in surprise.  

It was Noya, but in a state that Asahi had never seen him in.  His hair was down, and his eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks stained with tears. They seemed to be freely flowing, and Asahi could see his shaking even from where she stood—not just his hands, but his entire body seemed to be wracked with tremors.

“Noya, what’s—” Asahi started to say, but broke off as Noya’s knees suddenly gave out. She managed to catch him before he fell completely, but stood frozen for a few moments as he sagged in her arms.  Finally, she was able to gather her wits about her, and carefully raised Noya back into a standing position. He leaned into her, his face buried in her shirt and his entire body shaking with sobs.

Asahi briefly considered what to do. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he didn’t seem to be quite capable of talking in his current state, so she decided to carry him over to her bed, whispering soothing words in his ear as he limply allowed himself to be manhandled. As she sat, a bit uncomfortably, on top of the covers, with Noya wrapped in her arms and clinging to her chest, she couldn’t help noticing the way his body shook almost violently, and how unusually ragged and desperate his breathing seemed, as if he was struggling to find air.  She ran her fingers through his dark hair, which felt slightly damp, as if he had recently showered, and held him tight to her chest.

Finally, his gasping sobs quieted, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, taking a moment to unstick Asahi’s shirt from where it had clung to his wet cheeks.  Asahi removed one hand from his waist and plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table; he snatched it from her fingers and blew his nose noisily.  She instinctively glanced over at the other bed, but her roommate was still fast asleep; she was a remarkably heavy sleeper, something that Asahi and Noya had discovered months ago on the first of their many sleepless nights together.  Asahi watched and wondered as Noya pulled himself together, and finally spoke.

“I-I’m sorry about this.” His voice was quiet, and a little shaky. Asahi reached for his hand, twining her fingers around his and giving his palm a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.  “What happened?”

She, of course, was experienced with panic attacks; she was used to dealing with them when they happened to her, but she had never seen Noya in this state. She tried to fight off the panic edging in, threatening to paralyze her, or at least not let it show.  Noya didn’t respond to her question at first.  Carefully, she tried again.

“Did something happen with Tanaka?”

Noya shook his head. Asahi racked her brain, trying to think of possible causes, things that usually set _her_  off.

“Is it school related? Um...dysphoria?”

“No–well–not really?” His gaze seemed fixated on an invisible spot on the wall behind Asahi’s head. She squeezed his hand, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, it’s kind of about the movie we saw today.”

She felt a surge of empathy as she stared down at him, her heart shuddering at the horrible sight of her boyfriend in this kind of pain. She rubbed her thumb back and forth against the skin of his hand, wishing with all her heart that she could help him somehow.

“I, uh...there’s some stuff I haven’t really told you about yet. It’s stuff that I kinda try to forget about, but, well, the movie kinda brought it back up.” He took a long, shaky breath.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable,” Asahi said immediately. Noya shook his head.

“No, I need to. I–I think I should get it out.  You know the girl Leelah, in the movie?”  

Asahi nodded, searching his face. He was still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Well, uh, i-in high school, my life was a lot like hers.”

Asahi somehow managed to hold in the gasp that threatened to escape her lips; she knew that any extreme reactions on her part would just set him off again, even if she _was_  caught off guard by what he had just said. She took his other hand in hers, squeezing them both, watching the emotions dance across his face and waiting for him to speak.

“When I was little, I loved my parents. I-I mean, I was a little kid, everyone does at that age, and we’re all blind to their flaws. I didn’t notice, I guess, the little things that were off. How harsh they would be when I messed something up, even if it was something really small.  How little privacy they gave me, how they always wanted to know _everything_  I was doing and thinking.  How strong their beliefs were, and how often they would try to push them down my throat. I believed them without even questioning it. I believed that gay people were bad, like scary freaks of nature or something. I believed that on the list of things I could never, ever grow up to be, a fag or a t-tranny was up on the top.”

He paused, glancing briefly up at Asahi’s face, as if to test her reaction to the slur. She just gave a faint, understanding smile, and squeezed his shaking hands.

“Of course, at a certain point, I started to question my parents’ beliefs. I think it was towards the end of middle school when I started to wonder why gay and trans people were so awful. It was just a thought, back then. I still thought I was straight and cis, obviously, and I still trusted my parents for the most part, even if my trust in them mostly stemmed from fear. I was scared to question them, so I tried to push those doubts aside.

“Back then, I had a friend, this girl I’d known since the beginning of middle school. We were really close, like sisters almost, and by the time we got to high school, I was spending nearly as much time at her house as my own. Her parents were different from mine. They were more laid-back, they didn’t punish her as harshly as mine did, and they always asked for her opinions on things, instead of drilling their opinions in her head.  Anyway, when I was in high school, I started to realize that my feelings for this girl were different than just friendship, or even family. I tried to deny it at first, to convince myself that it wasn’t real. I mean, I’d internalized a lot of the shit my parents had taught me. I knew that being gay was bad, somehow, and me being in love with my best friend made me gay.

“It didn’t feel gay, though. Like, not in the sense of ‘love is love no matter who it’s between’ or any of that. More like I didn’t feel like a girl in love with a girl. I didn’t really feel like a girl at all, I guess. I didn’t know what it meant at first, just that I felt more comfortable thinking of myself as a boy. Of course, when I realized this, I was terrified. Of all the things I’d promised my parents I wouldn’t be, I’d somehow become the worst of them. Next I was gonna turn into a serial killer or something.  Honestly, at this point the dysphoria was the easiest thing I had to deal with, at least compared to the fear.

“I think my friend realized that something had changed, that I was acting different. She confronted me about it, and I told her everything. I honestly didn’t think she would accept me—I wasn’t expecting my coming out to go well at all, but that’s not why I told her. It was more that this was eating me up, and I thought that maybe if I said it out loud, it would go away. She _was_  accepting, though. Maybe too accepting, actually, because I guess it gave me a false sense of security.

“We started dating. She promised to keep it a secret for me, and act like we were just friends when we were in public or at my house. At her house, though, we could do whatever we wanted. She started calling me by the new name I’d picked out for myself, Yuu, and using male pronouns for me. For a few months, everything seemed perfect. I mean, I still got dysphoria, and I was still scared of my parents finding out, but other than that, my life was good. I didn’t think for a second that it might not last.

“It all changed at the end of my second year of high school. I forgot my phone at home when I left for school one morning, and while I was gone, my parents read my text messages between me and my girlfriend and found out everything. They called my girlfriend’s parents, who confirmed that we were dating and that I was a trans boy. When I got home from volleyball practice that afternoon, I had to face them. Angry doesn’t even _begin_  to describe what they were. I thought they were going to kill me.  They gave me a choice: I could either stop seeing my girlfriend, quit the volleyball team, and promise not to be gay or trans anymore (as if that was actually possible to do), or I would be kicked out of their household.”

He trailed off, looking down into his lap, and Asahi felt his hands shaking in hers. When he looked up again, his eyes glistened with tears once more. Asahi reached out her arms to wrap him in a hug, but he shook his head, wiping his face and quickly resuming the story.

“It was an extremely difficult choice. On the one hand, I knew if I stayed, my parents would do everything in their power to make my life a living hell. On the other hand, I didn’t have enough money to live on my own, and I was terrified of being homeless. Plus, I couldn’t help but resent my girlfriend for betraying me, even if it was her parents who had outed me, and not her.  Besides, I only had one more year of high school left, and then I could find somewhere far away to go to college and never have to deal with my parents. So, after quite a bit of agonizing, I decided to stay.

“Almost immediately, I regretted this decision. If my parents had been bad before, nothing could compare to how they treated me now.  As was part of the deal, I quit the volleyball team, which was where I had met my now-ex girlfriend back in middle school, and cut off all contact with her. I lost all of my friends after that, and was completely alone for my entire third year of high school. My parents made me attend therapy—”

At this, he broke off, giving a violent shudder and sagging forward. Asahi caught him on instinct, and this time, he let her hold him, digging his nails into her shirt.  

“I’ve heard about those kinds of therapy,” she said softly, her hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“M-my parents did horrible things t-to me,” Noya tried to continue, his voice choked with tears. “They–I–I don’t know how to t-talk about the other things they did—”

“You don’t have to,” Asahi whispered soothingly, kissing the top of his head.

“I-I tried to kill myself, p-partway through my third year. It didn’t work, b-but—I’m sorry, I-I can’t talk abou—”

Asahi held him even tighter, let him bury his head in her shirt as his body shook with sobs. “You don’t have to tell me anymore,” she whispered. “I–thank you for sharing this with me. I know it’s hard to talk about, and even harder to actually live through, but you’re so unbelievably strong, and brave, and /important/, and…”

Noya kept on crying, laying limp in her arms. She eventually trailed off, her own eyes filling with tears, and she let the silence speak in her stead as she waited for her boyfriend’s breathing to even out. Eventually, it did, but it was another few minutes before he peeled his face from her chest and looked up at her with bleary eyes.

“You’re okay now,” Asahi said gently, and he nodded. “You don’t have to live with them anymore, and I’m here now. I’ll always be here to keep you safe.”

Noya smiled weakly. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes, until Asahi spoke.

“Do you want me to take you back to your room?”

Noya shook his head. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure.”

He wriggled free from her arms and crawled under the covers of her bed. Asahi followed suit, and he curled up next to her, soaking in the warmth of her body. Soon, their exhaustion got the better of them, and they drifted into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that I have changed the total chapter count from 10 to 8. The original 10-chapter goal was getting way too daunting, and the 2 chapters I cut from the original plan were ones that I didn't have very many good ideas for anyway. Hopefully this will allow me to finish the fic sooner!
> 
> I'm really going to try to update a lot quicker from now on. This 3+ month wait hopefully won't happen again!


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